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ELEMENTS 


PSYCHOLOGY: 

\ 

INCLUDED IN 


^ CRITICAL EXAMINATION OF LOCKE’S ESSAY ON 
THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 


J 


By VICTOR COUSIN. 

vT 


ftuw tfcc dfraufc, 

WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES, 

By C. S. HENRY, D.D., 

* 

PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF NEW YORK, 


LONDON: 

THOMAS DELF, 12, PATERNOSTER-ROW. 




























4 
































PREFACE 


TO THE THIRD EDITION. 


This work consists of a critical examination of 
Locke's Essay on the Human Understanding; and 
is a translation of Ten Lectures—from the sixteenth 
to the twenty-fifth inclusive—contained in Cousin's 
History of Philosophy in the Eighteenth Century. 

In putting out this new edition, I take occasion to 
offer a few remarks which in the former editions it 
did not occur to me needful to make. 

1. In regard to the general title given to the 
volume.—This work does not pretend to be a syste¬ 
matic treatise of psychology ; it neither takes up all 
the topics comprised in a complete view of the phe¬ 
nomena of the mind, nor presents them in systematic 
a 2 



IV 


PREFACE. 


order and connection. The volume is occupied with 
special discussions connected with a critical review of 
Locke’s Essay, and its form and method were deter¬ 
mined by its relation to the work under examination. 
Nevertheless, as these discussions, in connection 
with the additional selections, embrace the funda¬ 
mental principles and most important topics which 
would be treated in a systematic work, and are the 
elements from which a system may be.formed, the 
general title which I have given to the volume seems 
to me sufficiently applicable and proper. 

2. In regard to the manner of using this work in 
instruction.—It is not designed as a substitute for 
more complete and systematic treatises, but to be 
used in connection with them. The course which I 
have found it best to pursue, and which seems to me 
best suited to the age of undergraduate students in 
our colleges generally, and to the proportion of time 
allotted for philosophical studies, is this: to put 
Locke’s Essay and this volume together into the 
hands of students as text books for study and exami¬ 
nation on the part of the scholar, and for explanation 
and thorough familiar teaching on the part of the pro¬ 
fessor ; and then to take up the systematic treatises 
of Reid, Stewart, or Upham. 

I prefer this order of study because modern phi¬ 
losophy, particularly in England and France, may in 
a certain sense be said to date from Locke, and the 
works of Reid, Stewart, and others, stand in such 
close relation to Locke’s Essay that it is desirable his 
work should be studied first. And I recommend the 
study of Cousin’s criticism in connection with Locke’s 


PREFACE. 


V 


Essay because, although the fundamental principles of 
Locke’s system are sufficiently refuted in the writings 
of Reid, Stewart, or Upham, yet in Cousin’s work 
they are put forth so much more prominently/ and 
are subjected to an analysis so much more clear, com¬ 
plete and thorough, that the study of it in connec¬ 
tion with Locke is a good preparation for the study 
of the other writers just named, besides being admir¬ 
ably adapted to cultivate generally the pow r er of phi¬ 
losophical analysis. In this opinion I am inclined to 
believe most persons devoted to this department of 
public instruction, who may combine this course of 
reading on the part of students with thorough teach¬ 
ing on their own part, will be disposed to coincide 
—whatever as to the rest may be the side they adopt 
between the two conflicting systems brought into 
comparison. 

I do not mean to say that this is absolutely the 
best course, but that I know of no better with refer¬ 
ence to our present text books. In the undergraduate 
course pursued in the colleges of this country, expe¬ 
rience has decided in favour of text books and fami¬ 
liar teaching in opposition to formal lectures; and it 
seems to me that we have no single work compre¬ 
hensive, full and thorough, and at the same time 
adapted to the age of our students generally, to the 
degree of the development of their reflecting powers, 
and to the time allowed for this branch of instruc¬ 
tion ; and it is scarcely possible to form a course of 
reading perfectly answering all these conditions by 
uniting several distinct works or portions of works, 
a 3 


VI 


PREFACE. 


Yet with the works I have named in the hands of the 
students, a competent teacher, by thorough familiar ex¬ 
position and combination, may frame a course of in¬ 
struction that will in a good degree realize all desirable 
conditions. Rauch's Psychology, recently published, 
may be added to the list, as containing, especially in 
the anthropological part, many interesting and im¬ 
portant views, though at the same time it has many 
defects in point of style and exposition which render 
it less suited to the age and cultivation of our young 
students in general. 

It is much to be desired that we had some com¬ 
prehensive didactic work, embracing a clear and ac¬ 
curate exposition of the fundamental facts and prin¬ 
ciples of psychology and metaphysics, the great 
problems of philosophy, with the different possible 
and actual solutions of them, and the different sys¬ 
tems resulting from those solutions respectively, 
together with such historical and critical indications 
as would enable the student to comprehend clearly 
at one view the relative connection of the principal 
systems that have existed in the world ; the several 
parts of the work developed in due proportion, and 
the whole properly proportioned to the time allotted 
to this department of a general education. 

It may perhaps be expected that I should say some¬ 
thing respecting an article which appeared in a certain 
religious journal shortly after the publication of the 
second edition of this work.* I have never taken any 

* Biblical Repertory and Prineeton Review, for January 1839. 


PREFACE. 


• vii 

public notice of it, because for those who thoroughly 
understand the subjects of which it treats, the article 
itself is its own best refutation; while to candid and 
sensible persons less familiar with philosophical stu¬ 
dies, though its numerous untruths and calculated 
appeals to the prejudices of the ignorant may not be 
equally apparent, yet its flippancies, personalities and 
bad temper (at variance alike with the true philo¬ 
sophical and with the Christian spirit) are sufficiently 
obvious to produce the reverse of the intended effect 
(and I may add that from both these classes of per¬ 
sons and from various quarters I have received nu¬ 
merous testimonies to this effect); and, as to the re¬ 
maining portion of the public coming within the 
limited sphere of the journal in question—persons, 
namely, with whom ignorance of the subject and re¬ 
ligious associations would make that journal an au¬ 
thority —I certainly felt no call to argue philosophical 
questions before such a tribunal. 

A few words will suffice for all that is necessary 
to say to the reader of this volume. 

The article represents Cousin as a pantheist, deny¬ 
ing the Personality of God; as denying also the 
Essential Difference of Right and Wrong; and as 
maintaining a scheme of Fatalism. I should do 
wrong to content myself with simply saying that 
these representations are totally false. Not only are 
they entirely destitute of just foundation, and contra¬ 
dictory also to the system of Cousin ; but, on each 
and every one of those points, Cousin strenuously 

MAINTAINS DOCTRINES PRECISELY THE REVERSE OF 


Vlll 


PREFACE. 


those imputed to him ! The statements of the 
article are as laughably untrue as it would be to call 
Athanasius an Arian, Bishop Berkeley a Materialist, 
or Jonathan Edwards a believer in the Self-determin¬ 
ing power of the Will! It seems to me therefore 
incredible that any person of ordinary good sense, 
assuming to pass a public judgment upon such sub¬ 
jects, should fall into an honest misconception of 
Cousin's doctrines on these points. I confess I can 
scarcely in my own mind acquit the writer of the 
article of deliberately imposing upon his readers re¬ 
presentations which he knew to be not only unjusti¬ 
fiable as towards Cousin personally, because contra¬ 
dictory to his express and repeated official declara¬ 
tions, but also unjust in themselves, because not in¬ 
volved in his fundamental principles, but contrary to 
his principles, to his system, and to the whole strain 
of his systematic teaching. This impression is ren¬ 
dered the more difficult to resist by the mode in 
which the writer has endeavoured to support his repre¬ 
sentations—his logic being of that pleasant and 
effectual sort sometimes called the method of proving 
aliquid ex aliquo. The only supposition upon which 
the writer can be freed from the imputation of deli¬ 
berate bad faith is, that his predetermination to make 
out a case destroyed for the time his capacity to per¬ 
ceive anything that made against his purpose. Why 
he should have wished to make out a case is not hard 
to be conceived in this community, and is apparent 
enough upon the face of the article. 

For proof of the utter falsehood of the charge of 


PREFACE. 


IX 


Fatalism brought against Cousin, the reader need 
only turn to the tenth chapter of the present volume, 
and to the notes connected with the fifth chapter. 
Elsewhere, also, in various parts of his other writings, 
and particularly in his lectures on the foundation of 
the absolute idea of moral good (occupying a consi¬ 
derable portion of a volume which I presume the 
writer of the article had not seen), the freedom of 
man, the absolute free will and sovereign Providence 
of God, are established with great force against every 
form of the opposite doctrine. The writer of the article 
is forced indeed to admit that “ Cousin does not teach 
what is commonly meant by fatalism; that he is a 
strenuous advocate for the freedom of the will, and 
talks much about our free personality.” Now Cousin 
not only does not teach what is commonly meant by 
fatalism, but he teaches nothing to which the term can 
be applied in any sense. He not only talks much about 
the freedom of the will, but he makes it a funda¬ 
mental principle of his system, absolutely essential 
to any possible conception of moral obligation, of 
accountability, and of the supreme free moral govern¬ 
ment of God, which latter truth he likewise teaches 
as expressly and in as good faith as any writer that 
ever wrote. This is his systematic teaching: and 
he has advanced nothing in other connections which 
is subversive of it, nothing that is not compatible 
with it. The passages adduced by his critic in proof 
that CoushFs “ freedom is itself but one of the pro¬ 
ducts of a deeper fatalism which pervades the uni¬ 
verse,” are merely some rapid and general expressions, 
in an animated rhetorical style, respecting the de¬ 
velopment of humanity under the laws of Divine 


X 


PREFACE. 


Providence—a development which is spoken of as 
necessary not in relation to God, nor in relation to the 
human will, but only in relation to an order of moral 
causes established by God, which we generalize in 
our conceptions as laws, and which we apply to ex¬ 
plain the events of human history; expressions the 
like of which are continually occurring in animated 
public discourses upon such subjects without excit¬ 
ing a thought of fatalism ; expressions which can be 
represented as fatalism only when stupidly miscon¬ 
ceived or wilfully perverted. 

The same course of remarks applies to the charge 
of confounding moral distinctions. Any person 
in the least degree conversant with such studies will 
instantly perceive that if ever there was a doctrine 
clearly and undeniably taught in the world, Cousin 
teaches the absolute and essential difference of right 
and wrong, the eternal and immutable nature of 
moral distinctions; and if ever there was a doctrine 
expressly and earnestly opposed, Cousin opposes 
every form of the doctrine which confounds moral 
distinctions. The absolute idea of right and wrong 
is made the indispensable basis of any idea of obliga¬ 
tion or duty, of merit and demerit, and of reward 
and punishment; no motive of virtuous action is 
allowed except the simple idea of absolute obligation 
grounded upon and springing necessarily and im¬ 
mediately from the absolute conception of right and 
wrong; and every form of the selfish system, from 
the grossest to the most refined, is repudiated ; every 
motive of self-love (from that which makes the grati¬ 
fication of the senses the rule of action, up to that 


PREFACE. 


XI 


which obeys in form the will of God for the sake of 
the consequent advantage) is excluded from the 
essence of virtue. Do right for the sake of right, 
without regard to consequences, is made the funda¬ 
mental maxim of ethics. All this may he seen in the 
present volume, and the same views are expounded 
systematically and thoroughly in the extended dis¬ 
cussion of this subject already referred to—the 
lectures on the absolute idea of moral good. Cousin 
is one of the most decided advocates of the principles 
of essential and immutable morality that ever wrote; 
Cudworth, Butler and Price have written nothing 
stronger, nothing clearer. It w r ould not be a grosser 
falsehood nor a more laughable blunder, to assert 
that the systems of Hobbes and Jeremy Bentham 
recognize disinterested virtue and the essential differ¬ 
ence of right and wrong, than has been committed 
by this person in asserting that Cousin denies them. 
Yet carefully withholding from his readers all these 
abundant, unambiguous, systematic statements of 
Cousin, and presuming (one would suppose) that they 
had never read and would never read the writings 
which he was perverting ; violating also every rule 
of interpretation which renders it possible ever to 
ascertain from language a writer’s opinions or system; 
in his predetermination to make out a case, he has 
culled a few scattered expressions occurring in the 
course of some rapid reflections upon historical 
and political topics, on the ground of which he repre¬ 
sents Cousin as confounding moral distinctions by 
exalting fact into right: expressions which no more 
justify the charge than would the familiar political 


Xll 


PREFACE. 


maxim that a probability of success is indispensable 
to justify an attempt to revolutionize a government. 
For myself, I do not acquiesce in the political and 
historical speculations of Cousin to which those ex¬ 
pressions relate; but it is simply because I deem 
them fanciful and incorrect, not because they confound 
moral distinctions, or are incompatible with his syste¬ 
matic principle of the essential difference of right 
and wrong. 

So likewise with respect to the charge of Pantheism. 
Apparently the writer of the article in question had 
no precise conception of the meaning of the term. 
Certain it is that Cousin is no pantheist in any of the 
senses in which the word is ever used by persons 
entitled to speak upon the subject. 

Pantheism, in the strict sense of the term, is the 
confounding of God with the universe—denying his 
distinct substantial existence, and making him 
merely the collective all of things. It may be of 
two sorts : material , when the substantial existence 
of spiritual being is denied, and matter is made the 
only substance of which the collective all of the uni¬ 
verse is composed; or ideal, when the substantial 
existence of matter is denied, and spiritual being 
made the only substance. 

Pantheism, in the less proper meaning of the word, 
is the confounding of the universe with God— 
making God the sole substantial existence, and the 
universe of mind and matter merely phenomena; 
thereby destroying human personality, freedom, &c. 

Now Cousin not only]does not teach pantheism in 
either of these forms, but on the contrary clearly and 


PREFACE. 


xiii 

abundantly exposes and confutes them all. He 
maintains the substantial existence of God and the 
substantial existence of the universe of mind and 
matter; of God as distinct from the universe; of 
God as the cause and the universe the effect; of God 
as superior to the universe by all the superiority of 
an infinite uncreated substance and cause over all 
finite and created substances and causes. Yet all 
that Cousin says expressly and directly on this sub¬ 
ject is kept out of view by the writer of the article, 
and some speculations respecting the relation of the 
creation to God, and some expressions concerning the 
all-pervading presence and energy of God, are paraded 
as proof of pantheism. As to the speculations about 
the creation considered as the necessary product of 
the divine activity, I should suppose it would be 
readily admitted by any thinker, that if God had 
never created anything, he would never have exerted 
his power out of himself, never have manifested him¬ 
self. I should suppose it would be equally admitted 
to be natural to the human mind to conceive that 
God, as an infinite personal cause, a free potential 
activity, would put forth or actualize his power in 
some determinate, and therefore finite, production, 
that is to say, would create. I do not understand 
Cousin as asserting that creation is necessary in any 
other sense than this, relative, namely, to our concep¬ 
tion of an infinite cause, personal and free. If he 
intended the assertion as absolute, I should not 
adopt it; but certainly I should never dream of con¬ 
sidering it pantheism : it has no more to do with 
pantheism than with polytheism; and as to the rest 
b 


XIV 


PREFACE. 


is perfectly harmless.*—Finally, as to the expressions 
relating to the all-pervading presence and energy of 
God in the universe: they are the same sort of expres¬ 
sions as those in which all elevated meditation on the 
Divine Being naturally utters itself; and the charge 

* In saying that I should not adopt it, I do not mean that it may 
not be so, or that there is not some ground for it in the idea on which 
it rests. For our conception of the human will as an active power, 
a power of volition, involves naturally the conception that it is a 
power which, when the conditions of its activity are supplied, must 
pass into action in the production of volitions—yet without destroy¬ 
ing the free personality of man. Even the necessarians who make 
these conditions to be causes ab extra, do, many of them, maintain 
the free personality of man. 

With respect to the human will, we all admit that there must he 
conditions of its activity ; that these conditions are external to the 
will, and primarily external even to the mind. But prior to the 
first creative act of the Divine will, there existed nothing but 
God ; and consequently the conditions of the passing into activity 
of the Divine will (if such there were) must have been entirely 
within the nature itself of the Divine Being. 

Now with respect to Cousin’s speculation about creation : it 
certainly is true that the Divine will has passed into activity and 
created the universe ; and it may be true that there was in the very 
nature of the Divine will a necessity of its passing into activity, an 
activity which must also be creative—a necessity equally eternal, 
groundless, and unfathomable to our comprehension as the neces¬ 
sity of the Divine existence itself. I certainly would not venture 
either to assert or deny that it is absolutely so ; for I am reverently 
averse to all speculations which go back of the attributes of God 
and seek to penetrate his nature, or which proceed upon ideas with 
respect to his nature not given or warranted by revelation. ** Who 
by searching can find out the almighty to perfection ?”—But I should 
like to know what there is in such a speculation that has the remotest 
connection with pantheism. 

At the same time I consider the necessity of creation spoken of 
by Cousin to be a purely hypothetical necessity, not absolute but 
relative to our limited conceptions ; necessary, that is, unless we 
would conceive God to remain eternally solitary and inactive. 


PREFACE 


XV 


of pantheism would lie equally against nine-tenths of 
the most accredited devotional poetry, and against the 
Holy Scriptures themselves, which speak of God as 
“ all in all,” and of creatures as " living, moving and 
having their being in him,” &c. &c. 

I repeat then, summarily, that the person who 
wrote the article in question has imputed to Cousin 
doctrines directly the opposite of those which he 
explicitly and positively teaches—doctrines which he 
distinctly and strenuously opposes : and the mode in 
which he endeavours to justify his imputations in¬ 
volves a perversion of thought and language scarcely 
less incredible. A parallel argument equally valid 
might be constructed to prove Cudworth an atheist, 
Bishop Butler an infidel, and Mr. Thomas Paine a 
Christian believer. 

The article also attempts to confound Cousin with 
certain German philosophers. As to this, I have only 
to say that the system of Cousin is distinguished from 
each and all those German systems by fundamental 
differences of principle. A professed exposition of 
modern German philosophy is also given in this article, 
putting it in as odious a light as possible, for the sake 
of casting accumulated odium upon Cousin and 
(perhaps chiefly) upon myself. Not adopting any of 
those German systems, nor sympathizing with their 
theological spirit and tendency, I do not here feel 
concerned to correct the mistakes of this exposition. 
Besides, no person tolerably well informed on the 
subject needs be told what a superficial and insuffi¬ 
cient account it is. It has every appearance of being 
an assemblage of scraps gathered at second and third 
b 2 


XVI 


PREFACE. 


hand from encyclopaedias, reviews, and incidental 
notices. A moment's glance is sufficient to satisfy 
any competent judge that it was never formed by a 
discriminating philosophical mind from a careful 
examination of the original sources. 

These are the leading and only material points in 
the article. Almost every page of it, however, 
abounds with particular instances of bad spirit and 
deficient capacity. Its arrogance and flippant per¬ 
sonalities, its numerous perversions and blunders 
both in logic and fact, taken in connection with the 
falsehood of its leading positions, form a combina¬ 
tion equally pitiable and ludicrous. But I have said 
enough, and perhaps more than enough, respecting an 
article so little entitled, either for its matter or its 
spirit, to the respect of any true philosopher; and 
whose only value to the genuine Christian, who is 
at the same time thoroughly acquainted with its 
subject, is in the example it furnishes how far from 
truth and propriety one may be led who attempts, 
under the banner of religion, to excite the odium 
theologicum against another by presuming on the 
ignorance and appealing to the prejudices of those 
whom he addresses. 

As to myself, I may be permitted to observe that 
my own philosophical and religious opinions, and 
the character of my instructions, are well known, by 
my friends, colleagues and pupils, to be diametrically 
opposite to any of the false and dangerous principles 
with which my humble name is attempted to be con¬ 
nected : and I might add that they may be gathered 
distinctly enough by the public even from the few 


PREFACE. 


XVI1 


things which I have printed on these subjects.* I 
am not apprehensive that the attempt to represent 
me as introducing knowingly or ignorantly into 
public instruction a work calculated to subvert the 
proper belief in God, in the essential difference of 
right and wrong, and in the moral accountability of 
man, will have its intended effect with competent 
judges. Attempts like that of my assailant, as they 
never in the long run do harm to the party assailed, 
so neither do they do the assailant any good, and 

* In an article published in the Literary and Theological Review 
in 1834, which was devoted to showing the impossibility of any ab¬ 
solute system of philosophy, of any speculative solution of the 
great problems of the human mind, and the necessity of leaping by 
faith alone, the chasm which separates the infinite from the finite 
—and expressly condemning the great modern German systems. 
Also, in an article in the same journal for 1835, defending the es¬ 
sential and immutable difference of right and wrong, on the 
grounds of Cudworth and Butler, against the principles of the 
selfish system. Just before the appearance of the article in the 
Princeton Review, I had also printed, in connection with Whewell’s 
Sermons on the Foundations of Morals (a work written in the 
spirit of Butler), several pieces containing views respecting the 
Divine existence and the nature of moral distinctions, directly in 
contradiction with those which I am represented as promoting by 
the publication of Cousin’s Examination of Locke. I take leave 
to say that in my opinion I have done no such wicked or foolish 
thing as wilfully or ignorantly to promote the subversion of my 
own fundamental principles on points of such vital importance; 
and I cannot but add, that so far as a mere opinion on such subjects 
is worth anything, fifteen years devoted to philosophical studies 
and for a considerable portion of the time in the way of profes¬ 
sional duty, may perhaps entitle my opinion to as much provisional 
force as that of the individual who has seen fit to become my assail¬ 
ant. It is not pleasant thus to speak of one’s own opinions and 
writings; and I should not presume to refer to my slight produc¬ 
tions, but for the attempt made in the article to connect my name 
with opinions so diametrically opposite to those I hold. 


XV111 


PREFACE. 


(which is of much greater importance) they will never 
in the long run promote the sacred cause of truth 

and of God. 

# 

u Non tali auxilio nec defensoribus istis.” 

I have no new system to introduce into the country. 
I have neither the ability nor the wish to found a 
school. I have no complete speculative system, but 
only some fundamental principles. I do not believe 
in the possibility of any philosophy of the universe, 
any system that shall speculatively comprehend at 
once the finite and the infinite, giving us the posi¬ 
tive cognition of the infinite. In the words of one of 
Cousin’s English critics—whose consummate ability 
and profound philosophical learning, and whose 
genial admiration and respect for Cousin, even while 
confuting him on this the fundamental peculiarity 
of his system, are equally in contrast with the shal¬ 
low and contemptuous spirit of his American assail¬ 
ant—I believe in that philosophy by which “ we are 
taught the salutary lesson that the capacity of thought 
is not to be constituted into the measure of existence ; 
and are warned from recognizing the domain of our 
knowledge as necessarily co-extensive with the hori¬ 
zon of our faith.”* 

I published this examination of Locke because, in¬ 
dependently of any systematic peculiarities of the 
author, and independently of my own personal opinion 
of his system, I believed it calculated to establish the 
very foundations of morality and religion against the 

* Sir William Hamilton, professor of philosophy in the Univer¬ 
sity of Edinburgh. Edinb. Review, Oct. 1829. 


PREFACE. 


XIX 


subversive principles of Locke and Paley. In regard 
to these great truths, as against the principles and 
systematic results of the Sensual philosophy, this 
work is in perfect harmony with Cudworth, Price, 
Butler, Reid and Stewart. 

With this view, therefore, and regarding the study 
of this examination of Locke as also a profitable ex¬ 
ercise of critical analysis, the work is again com¬ 
mended to the use of those who, like myself, not 
adopting the whole of the author's system, can yet 
appreciate the nature, direction and value of this 
portion of his labours. 

C. S. HENRY. 

University of New York. 







t 

’ 














CONTENTS 


Page. 


Introduction, by the Translator, . . . . i 

EXAMINATION OF LOCKE’S ESSAY ON THE 
UNDERSTANDING. 

CHAPTER I. 

General spirit of the Essay on the Human Understanding. —Its 
Method. Study of the Human Understanding itself, as the 
necessary introduction to all true philosophy.—Study of the 
Human Understanding in its action, in its phenomena, or ideas. 
—Division of the inquiries relating to ideas, and determina¬ 
tion of the order in which those investigations should be iftade. 
To postpone the logical and ontological question concerning 
the truth or falsity of ideas, and the legitimacy or illegitimacy 
of their application to their respective objects ; and to concen¬ 
trate our investigations upon the study of ideas in them¬ 
selves,—and in that, to begin by describing ideas as they 
actually are, and then to proceed to the investigation of their 
origin.—Examination of the method of Locke. Its merit: 
he postpones and places last the question of the truth or falsity 
of ideas. Its fault: he entirely neglects the question concern¬ 
ing the actual character of ideas, and begins with that of their 
origin. First mistake of method ; chances of error which it 
involves.—General tendency of the School of Locke. Re¬ 
capitulation .27 

CHAPTER II. 

First Book of the Essay on the Human Understanding. Of 
Innate ideas.—Second Book. Experience, the source of all 
ideas. Sensation and reflection.—Locke places the develop¬ 
ment of the sensibility before that of the operations of the 
mind. Operations of the mind. According to Locke, they 
are exercised only upon sensible data. Basis of Sensualism. 
—Examination of the doctrine of Locke concerning the idea 
of space.—That the idea of space, in the system of Locke, 
should and does resolve itself into the idea of Body.—This 



XXII 


CONTENTS. 


confusion contradicted by facts, and by Locke himself. 
Distinction of the actual characters of the ideas of Body and 
of Space : 1. the one contingent, the other necessary ; 2. the 
one limited, the other illimitable; 3. the one a sensible repre¬ 
sentation, the other a rational conception. This distinction 
ruins the system of Locke. Examination of the origin of the 
idea of Space. Distinction between the logical order and the 
chronological order of ideas.—Logical order. The idea, of 
space is the logical condition of the idea of body, its foundation, 
its reason, its origin, taken logically.—The idea of body is the 
chronological condition of the idea of space, its origin taken 
chronologically.—Of the Reason and Experience, considered 
as in turn the reciprocal condition of their mutual develop¬ 
ment.—Merit of the system of Locke.—Its vices ; 1. con¬ 
founds the measure of space, with space; 2. the condition 
of the idea of space, with the idea itself . . .51 

CHAPTER III. 

* 

Recapitulation of the preceding chapter.—Continuation of the 
examination of the Second Book of the Essay on the Human 
Understanding. Of the idea of Time.—Of the idea of the In¬ 
finite.—Of the idea of Personal Identity.—Of the idea of 
Substance.77 


CHAPTER IV. 

General remarks on the foregoing results.—Continuation of the 
examination of the Second Book of the Essay on the Human 
Understanding. Of the idea of Cause.—Origin in sensation. 
Refutation.—Origin in reflection and the sentiment of the 
will. Distinction between the idea of Cause, and the Prin¬ 
ciple of Causality.—That the principle of causality is inex¬ 
plicable by the sentiment of will.—Of the true formation of 
the principle of Causality.105 

CHAPTER V. 

Examination of the Second Book of the Essay on the Human 
Understanding continued. Of the idea of Good and Evil. 
Refutation. Conclusions of the Second Book. Of the for¬ 
mation and of the mechanism of ideas in the understanding. 
Of simple and complex ideas.—Of the activity and passivity 
of the mind in the acquisition of ideas.—The most general 
attributes of ideas. Of the Association of ideas.—Examina¬ 
tion of the Third Book of the Essay on the Understanding, 
concerning words. Credit due to Locke.—Examination of 
the following questions : 1. Do words derive their first origin 
from other words significant of sensible ideas ? 2. Is the 

signification of words purely arbitrary ? 3. Are general ideas 
nothing but words? Of Nominalism and realism. 4. Are 
words the sole cause of error, and is all science only a well- 


CONTENTS. 


XX111 


constructed language ?—Examination of the Third Book 
concluded.137 


CHAPTER VI. 

Examination of the Fourth Book of the Essay on the Human Un¬ 
derstanding, on Knowledge.—That knowledge, according to 
Locke, depends: 1. upon Ideas ; 2. upon Ideas, in so far as 
they are conformed to their objects.—That the conformity or 
non-conformity of ideas with their objects, as the foundation 
of truth or falsehood in regard to knowledge, is not with 
Locke merely a metaphor, but a real theory.—Examination 
of this theory of ideas, 1. in relation to the external world, to 
secondary qualities, to primary qualities, to the substratum 
of these qualities, to space, to time, &c.; 2. in relation to 
the spiritual world.—Appeal to Revelation. Paralogism of 
Locke.171 


CHAPTER VII. 

Resumption and continuation of the preceding chapter.—Of the 
idea, not now considered in relation to the object which it 
should represent, but in relation to the mind which perceives 
it, and in which it is found.—The idea-image, idea taken mate¬ 
rially, implies material subject; from hence materialism.— 
Taken spiritually, it can give neither bodies, nor spirit.— 
That the representative-idea, laid down as the sole primitive 
datum of the mind, in the inquiry after reality, condemns us to 
a paralogism ; since no representative idea can be decided to 
represent correctly or incorrectly, except by comparing it 
with its original, with the reality itself, to which, however, by 
the hypothesis, we cannot arrive but by the idea.—That know¬ 
ledge is direct, and without an intermediate.—Of judgments, 
of propositions and ideas.—Return to the question of innate 
ideas.195 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Examination of the Fourth Book of the Essay on the Understand¬ 
ing continued. Of Knowledge. Its modes. Omission of in¬ 
ductive knowledge.—Its degrees. False distinction of Locke 
between knowing and judging.—That the theory of knowledge 
and of judgment in Locke resolves itself into that of a per¬ 
ception of agreement or disagreement between ideas. Detailed 
examination of this theory.—That it applies to judgments 
abstract and not primitive, but by no means to primitive judg¬ 
ments which imply existence.—Analysis of the judgment; / 
exist. Three objections: 1, the impossibility of arriving at 
real existence by the abstraction of existence ; 2, that to begin 
by abstraction is contrary to the true process of the human 
mind ; 3, that the theory of Locke involves a paralogism.— 


XXIV 


CONTENTS. 


/ Analysis of the judgments: I think, this body exists, this body 
' * is coloured, God exists, &c.—Analysis of the judgments upon 
which Arithmetic and Geometry rest > . . 219 

CHAPTER IX. 

Continuation of the preceding chapter. That the theory of judg¬ 
ment, as the perception of a relation of agreement or disagree¬ 
ment between ideas, supposes that every judgment is founded 
upon a comparison. Refutation of the theory of comparative 
judgment.—Of axioms.—Of identical propositions.—Of Rea¬ 
son and of Faith.—Of Syllogism.—Of Enthusiasm.—Of the 
cause of error.—Division of the Sciences.—Conclusion of the 
examination of the Fourth Book of Locke’s Essay . 245 

CHAPTER X. 

Examination of three important Theories found in the Essay on 
the Human Understanding: 1. Theory of Freedom; which 
inclines to Fatalism. 2. Theory of the Nature of the Soul; 
which inclines to Materialism. 3. Theory of the Existence 
of God ; which rests itself almost exclusively upon external 
proofs, drawn from the sensible world.—Recapitulation of the 
whole Examination of the Essay of Locke; the Merits and 
the Faults which have been pointed out.—Of the spirit which 
has governed this Examination.—Conclusion . . 277 


INTRODUCTION. 


In France, in tlie eighteenth century, the principles of 
the philosophy of Locke were the most completely developed 
and most boldly carried out to their final consequences. 
From France, too, has come, in the nineteenth century, the 
most regular, complete, and thorough examination and 
refutation of them—contained in the following lectures of M. 
Cousin. This circumstance may render it proper to connect, 
with the brief notices of the life and philosophical labours 
of M. Cousin here intended to be given, a few remarks upon 
the history of philosophy in France from the time of Locke. 
They may at least be useful to that class of readers for whom 
this edition is specially prepared. 

At the time when the influence of the Cartesian philoso¬ 
phy in France was giving way to the new spirit of the 
eighteenth century, nothing was more natural than the ready 
reception of the system of Locke, claiming as it did—and 
to a certain extent, justly—to be a fruit of the movement 
of independence and of the experimental method. Thus 
put upon the road of Empiricism, the activity of the French 
mind continued to develop its principles, and carry out its 
consequences to their last results.* Condillac, exaggerat- 

* The term Empiricism, as applied to the system of Locke, may 
require, for younger students, some explanation ; because it is pos¬ 
sibly liable to be confounded with the more familiar popular use of 
the word. As a philosophical term it is not used in any invidious 
sense; but merely to designate a system which makes Experience 
(ep-rreipla) the exclusive source of knowledge. The fundamental 
pinciple of the system of Locke is that all human knowledge is 
B 



11 


INTRODUCTION. 


ing the already partial and defective, and therefore errone¬ 
ous, principles of the Empiricism of Locke, rejected reflection 
or natural consciousness, as one of the sources of knowledge; 
^and analyzed all the phenomena of the mind, into forms 
of sensation. By the admirable logical precision, the clear¬ 
ness and perfect system which he gave to his analysis, he 
became the metaphysician and acknowledged chief of this 
new school; while Helvetius, d’Holbach, and others, earned 
it boldly out to the Materialism, Fatalism, and Atheism, 
which are its legitimate moral consequences From that 
period, Sensualism, as a philosophical theory, maintained 
an almost exclusive predominance. Exceptions to this re¬ 
mark are scarcely to be met with ; and those that may be 
regarded as such were merely the fragmentary outbreakings 
of a higher inspiration than Sensualism could supply, not 
the regular and scientific exposition of a better system. 

Sensualism was the reigning doctrine. All knowledge 
and truth were held to be derived from Experience; and 
the domain of Experience was limited exclusively to Sen¬ 
sation. The influence of this doctrine extended throughout 
every department of intellectual activity,—arts, morals, 
politics, and religion, no less than the physical and econo¬ 
mical sciences. It became, according to Damiron, a new 
faith, which was preached by the philosophes , as its priests 
and doctors; and, among all ranks, and first, among the 
higher orders, including the clergy, it superseded the for¬ 
gotten or ill-taught doctrines of Christianity. It was in 
all books, in all conversations ; and, as a decisive proof of its 
conquest and credit, passed into instruction, and for many 
years before the .Revolution, it had taken everywhere, in 
the provinces as well as in Paris, the place of the old routine 
of education.* 

derived from Experience. With Locke, Experience was two-fold 
—consisting of Sensation and Reflection. 

In like manner Sensualism, in philosophical language, is taken 
in no bad signification. The French philosophers rejected Reflec¬ 
tion as a source of knowledge, and analyzed all human ideas into 
Sensation as their sole principle. Hence the terms Sensualism, and 
the Sensual School, to distinguish it from the Empiricism of Locke. 

* Damiron, Histoire de la Philosophic tn France au 1 9me siecle . 


INTRODUCTION. 


Ill 


Subsequently, the exciting and terrific scenes of the 
Revolution occupied all minds; the speculations which had, 
in no small degree, prepared the way lor those scenes, gave 
place to the absorbing interest of that period. Philosophy, 
in its more extended sense, was abandoned; all specu¬ 
lation was directed towards political theories, to the ne¬ 
glect of science, and even of public instruction; and 
nothing was done in the cultivation of philo soph v, until 
1795. 

At that time, the reign of violence began to give way to 
something like order and repose. With this return to 
comparative quiet, the philosophical spirit began to re¬ 
awaken. It was natural, however, that this movement 
should re-commence where it had been arrested—namely, 
with Sensualism. 

The organization of the Institute by the Directory, con¬ 
tributed to renew and extend the philosophy of Condillac, 
and to make it in some sort the doctrine of government, 
the philosophy of the state. During this period, we have 
several works produced in the spirit of the Sensual sys¬ 
tem,—among the most important of which may be named 
the Rapports du Physique et du Moral of Cabanis, and the 
Ideology of M. Destutt de Tracy; and by a strange fortune, 
the word Ideology became, in Prance, the distinctive 
appellation of the doctrine of exclusive Sensualism. Prom 
this time to the Consulate, we may trace a lively philoso¬ 
phical activity, though always in the direction of Sensualism. 
Hitherto, if any opposition to it had appeared, it was 
indirect and literary, rather than scientific. It may be 
found in writers of sentiment, such as St. Pierre, rather 
than in works of reflection. 

Thus, up to the time of the Empire, there was in strict¬ 
ness no philosophy opposed to the Sensual system. But/ 
from this period the tokens of a reaction become more 
distinct. Still, as is entirely natural, it manifested itself 
at first, and most clearly, in works of imagination and 
sentiment, in poetry and eloquence, rather than by scientific 
exposition. 

This reaction was favoured by jSTapoleon, though not 
from any sympathy with the direction which the movement 
B 2 


IV 


INTRODUCTION. 


against Sensualism afterwards displayed. From the cast 
of his mind and habits of education, and partly also from 
motives of policy, the Emperor had a strong dislike to all 
metaphysical and moral speculations, and did all in his 
power to discredit Ideology, which was then the exclusive 
form of speculation. When he re-organized the Institute, 
he excluded that class of studies; and in every way en¬ 
deavoured to repress their pursuit, and to excite the cultiva¬ 
tion of the mathematical and physical sciences. Thus, 
under the Empire, the philosophy of Condillac sensibly 
declined. It no longer produced important works; its 
former authorities lost in credit; and there was no longer 
the brilliant propagation of its doctrines which distinguished 
the preceding periods. 

There was still another cause of the decline of Sensualism. 
It was in the character of several works written about this 
period, by writers avowedly belonging to the school of 
Condillac; but who, by the distinctions and modifications 
which they introduced, actually favoured a contrary doc¬ 
trine. Among the most important of these works, may be 
named the Lectures of M. Laromiguiere. By distinguishing 
between the idea and the sensation, he makes the latter the 
matter , and the first the form received ; and this form is 
/* given by the intellectual activity. This activity is therefore 
admitted as an original attribute of the mind, and a co¬ 
ordinate source of knowledge ; which is certainly contrary to 
the exclusive origin in sensation. Laromiguiere, therefore, 
comes much nearer in this respect, to Beid, and particularly 
to Kant, than to his master Condillac. 

A little subsequently to this time, we come to Royer-Col- 
lard. Distinguished by eminent ability in every depart¬ 
ment, this celebrated man appeared in open and systematic 
opposition to Sensualism. From 1811 to 1814, as the 
disciple and expounder of Beid, he advocated the doctrines 
of the Scottish philosopher, and annihilated the exclusive 
pretensions of the Sensual school to be the last word and 
the highest result of philosophy. The able translation of 
Beid’s worxs, and of Stewart’s Outlines of Moral Philoso¬ 
phy, by Jouffroy , contributed still further to extend the 
reaction against the system of Condillac. From the time 


INTRODUCTION. 


V 


when Royer-Collard commenced his lectures to the present 
day, and through the impulse which he imparted, philoso¬ 
phy has been cultivated with the most lively activity, by 
many of the finest spirits in France. Of these, some, 
carrying the zeal they had imbibed from their master into 
a still more extended sphere, pursued their investigations 
into the modem German speculations, which had already 
attracted some attention, and exerted some influence, 
through .the writings of Madam de Stael, the expositions 
of Villiers, and others. 

The reign of Sensualism was thus at an end. It came 
to be looked upon with as great a degree of aversion and 
contempt, as it formerly enjoyed of credit and authority. 
Its few partizans were almost exclusively to be found among 
the naturalists and physicians. In the only important 
work which we have seen and the only one, we believe, 
recently written, in the interest of Materialism —Sur V Irri¬ 
tation et la Folie, by Broussais—the author complains 
of the injustice and prejudice with which the once pre¬ 
dominant doctrines of Sensualism are now regarded. In 
truth, nearly all the names of eminence and celebrity in 
every department of intellectual activity, are ranged on the 
/side of a spiritual philosophy. Its influence pervades 
almost all the celebrated works that have appeared for 
twenty years, in Art, in History, and in Literature gene¬ 
rally. 

Among those who imbibed and have contributed to ex¬ 
tend the spirit of this new activity in philosophy, there is 
no one who occupies so brilliant a position, or has exerted 
so great an influence as Victor Cousin. This celebrated 
philosopher was born at Paris, November 28, 1792. The 
indications of superior talents, which he displayed in the 
humble schools where he was at first placed, induced his 
parents, although not in opulent circumstances, to give him 
a complete education. He was accordingly sent to the 
Lycee Charlemagne , where in a short time he attained the 
head of his class,—a place which he never afterwards lost. 
Here he carried off numerous prizes every year, distinguish¬ 
ing himself not more by the brilliancy of his natural talents 
than by his indefatigable industry in study. At this period, 
B 8 


VI 


INTRODUCTION. 


under the Empire., it was the policy of the government to 
attach to itself eveiy sort of youthful talent by opening dif¬ 
ferent careers in the service of the state to those who dis¬ 
tinguished themselves in the colleges of Paris. Cousin 
having taken the highest prizes, entitled himself to ex¬ 
emption from the conscription and to the place of auditor to 
the Council of State, with a salary of 5,000 francs. But an 
ardent love of study prevailed over every other consideration, 
and led him to decline this opening to civil employments 
and honours. Through the influence of M. Grueroult, the 
celebrated translator of Pliny, and honorary counsellor of 
the University, who had known him, and watched him with 
friendly interest throughout his course at the Lycee Char¬ 
lemagne, he was decided to devote himself to the profession 
of public instruction. His name was accordingly inscribed 
the first on the list of the pupils admitted at the Normal 
School, then organized under the direction of M. Grueroult. 
It was in 1810, at the age of eighteen, that Cousin entered 
the Normal School, which he never afterwards quitted, and 
at the head of which he was placed, after the revolution of 
1830. After passing two years there as a pupil, he was 
appointed Instructor in Literature, at the close of the year 
1812; and was made Master of the Conferences in 1814, 
in the place of M. Villemain. At the same time he was 
employed as an assistant teacher in the differentLyceums 
of Paris, particularly at the Lycee Imperial. In 1815, 
during the Hundred Hays, he had the charge of the class in 
philosophy at the Lycee Bonaparte {College Bourbon). In this 
wayM. Cousin discharged in succession the various func¬ 
tions of secondary instruction. 

He had not yet however found his true sphere, the proper 
theatre for his activity. He has himself described, in the 
preface to the second edition of his Philosophical Frag¬ 
ments , the impressions made upon his mind, upon first 
entering the Normal School, by the lectures of M. Laro- 
miguiere, and shortly afterwards, by those of M. Boyer- 
Collard. Prom that moment he gave up his whole heart 
to philosophy. But his patron, M. Gueroult, the principal 
of the Normal School, entertained very different views for 
him, and after some fruitless struggles, M. Cousin found 


INTRODUCTION. 


vii 


that his success as a teacher of literature, condemned him 
to that department of instruction. He remained, however, 
none the less warmly attached to his favourite science; and 
at length all his wishes were crowned; for when at the 
close of the year 1815, M. Royer-Collard was placed by 
the new government at the head of the University, he 
appointed Cousin to succeed himself as Professor of Philoso¬ 
phy in the Paculty of Literature. 

Henceforth M. Cousin devoted himself entirely to philoso¬ 
phy—giving instruction both at the University and at the 
Normal School. For five years he bore the weight of this 
double duty. His lectures at the University gave a strong 
impulse to the public mind, and excited a more general 
taste for philosophical studies; while his instructions at 
the Normal School formed that body of young men who 
have since so well and ably seconded his labours. 

In 1817 and 1818, he passed his vacations in travelling 
in Germany, for the purpose of studying the philosophy of 
that country. In 1820 he made a journey to the north of 
Italy, in order to collate the manuscripts of the Ambrosian 
library and the library of St. Mark, with reference to his 
projected edition of the unpublished works of Proclus. 
But on his return he found a great change in the condi¬ 
tion of affairs in France. Royer-Collard was no longer 
at the head of the University ; he had been dismissed from 
the council of state, along with M. Guizot; and an adverse 
influence had gained possession of the government and of 
public instruction. Our young professor fell under the 
suspicion of liberalism in politics; his course of lectures 
was suspended, and this suspension continued for seven 
years. In 1822 the Normal School was suppressed. During 
this long disgrace, M. Cousin, though deprived of all public 
employment, and without any private fortune, did not 
abandon his vocation as a philosopher. He had hitherto 
served the cause of philosophy by his teachings ; he now 
continued to serve it by his writings, which at the same 
time maintained and increased his reputation. 

A disagreeable incident about this time added to his 
popularity. Travelling, in 1824, in Germany, with the 
eldest son of Marshall Lannes, the duke of Montobello, 


viii 


INTRODUCTION. 


M. Cousin was arrested at Dresden, and carried to Berlin, 
where he was kept in prison for several months. This 
unpleasant affair however, terminated to his honour and to 
the disgrace of his enemies. Throughout the whole of the 
ridiculous trial, M. Cousin displayed a moderation and a 
firmness that gained for him the high esteem of the Prussian 
government, and of all the enlightened men of Germany * 
It was demonstrated that M. Cousin was perfectly a 
stranger to all the combinations which he was accused of 
being engaged in, against the governments of Germany; 
and the secret of the whole affair turned out to be a stroke 
of policy of the Jesuits at Paris, who hoped by means of 
Germany to avenge themselves upon Cousin for his influence 
in France. In fact, although a philosopher, or rather 
because he was a philosopher, the pupil and friend of Royer- 
Collard could not remain a stranger to the affairs of his 
own country. His Liberal principles, freely avowed and 
consistently acted upon, on every public emergency, ren¬ 
dered him odious to the Jesuits. As they dared not accuse 
him at Paris, they persecuted him in Germany ; but this 
only gave him the opportunity of acquiring new titles to 
the esteem of the enlightened and honourable. M. Cousin 
distinguished himself no less for his mildness after the 
recovery of his liberty, than for his energetic determination 
of character while in prison. Satisfied with the marks of 
respect which lie received from the Prussian government, 
he forgot his feelings of resentment in the midst of the old 
friends by whom he found himself surrounded at Berlin, 
among whom were Schleiermacher and Hegel. 

Upon his return to France, in 1825, he continued still 
out of favour with the government, and was not permitted 
to resume his lectures. But with the elections of 1827 
came the overthrow of the Villele administration; and 
under the presidency of Royer-Collard and the ministry of 
M. de Martignac, Cousin, together with M. Guizot, was 
re-established in his chair in the Faculty of Literature. He 
re-appeared there and continued to lecture down to 1830, 
with a brilliant success which has perhaps never been 
equalled at any period in the history of philosophical teach¬ 
ing. We must go back to the days of Abelard to find 


INTRODUCTION. 


IX 


anything like the numerous and enthusiastic body of 
auditors that attended the courses of M. Cousin. The 
instruction, though so remarkable for splendour and bril¬ 
liancy, was equally remarkable for moderation, in religion, 
in politics, in everything. The Lectures of Cousin, as well 
as those of his colleagues Guizot and Villemain, were taken 
down by stenographers, printed, and circulated, almost as 
soon as they were delivered; and in a few days after the 
two thousand auditors heard them at the Sorbonne, the 
friends of philosophy from one end of France to the other 
received them, and might thus be said to have been present 
at the lectures of this illustrious triumvirate. 

In 1828, M. Cousin, who since 1815 had been simply 
an assistant professor, was nominated adjunct-professor—a 
very slight promotion indeed after such labours and such 
success. The explanation of this is found only in the 
immoveable resolution, which he had declared, of never 
suffering the name of M. Boyer-Collard, his second pa¬ 
tron after M. Gueroult, and his friend and master, to be 
stricken from the roll of the Faculty of Literature in order 
to make a place for his own. 

At the revolution of 1830, M. Cousin, with his high 
reputation, his great talents as an orator, his character for 
energy, and the popularity he had gained in the Quartier 
latin during the celebrated Three Days, might easily have 
secured a seat in the Chamber of Deputies, and entered 
upon a political career, as did his two colleagues M. Gui¬ 
zot and M. Villemain, and his friend M. Theirs. But 
Cousin declared his resolution to remain faithful to philoso¬ 
phy. “ Politics,” said he at that time, “ are but an epi¬ 
sode in my life ; the great current of my existence belongs 
to philosophy.” Accordingly the only change he was will¬ 
ing to yield to, was to pass, according to the strictest forms 
of University promotion, from the Faculty of Literature to 
the Boyal Council of Public Instruction, and to the princi¬ 
pal direction of the Normal School, which he re-established 
and organized. In order to provide a place for M. Jouffroy, 
one of his most able pupils, he exchanged the chair of the 
History of modem philosophy for that of the History of 
Ancient Philosophy, of which he continued the titular 


X 


INTRODUCTION. 


incumbent. He refused to accept any political office; and 
although he had preserved the intimate confidence of his 
old friends, who were now become powerful ministers, he 
adhered closely to the University, and devoted his active 
mind to the continuation of his philosophical publications 
Avhich his lectures had suspended. How zealously he has 
devoted himself from that time to the present to the most 
learned and abstruse studies, and what prodigious fruits of 
his indefatigable industry have been given to the world, 
will by and by be stated. 

But there is another career in which since 1830, he has 
acquired nearly as much reputation, and a still more undis¬ 
puted popularity. YVe refer to his services in behalf of 
Education, as a member of the Boyal Council of Public 
Instruction, and director of the Normal School.—Before 
this time, those who had occupied themselves with the 
subject of education in France, had been, either speculative 
men, like Bousseau, destitute of practical knowledge, who 
have propounded theories without regard to actual facts, 
and which could not be realized without destroying all the 
existing institutions ; or else persons, very competent, in¬ 
deed, for the details of practical instruction; but incapable 
of taking any comprehensive views. But M. Cousin, 
who is at the same time both a man of the schools and a 
philosopher, combined all the elements of an accomplished 
teacher. As the historian and critic of all the most impor¬ 
tant systems of philosophy, he would not bindlv submit 
to the slavery of mere ancient routine ; while as a pupil 
and professor of the University, he could not be easily 
tempted to break down the illustrious institution at whose 
bosom he had himself been nursed. This explains the 
course which he had pursued as a member of the Boyal 
Council of Public Instruction, and one of the magistrates 
appointed to direct the education of the young. He has 
constantly endeavoured to enlarge the frame-work of the 
University without deforming it.* 

* The whole system of Public Instruction in France is under the 
direction of the Government, and all the different classes of schools, 
from the lowest to the highest, compose, with the ministry of Edu¬ 
cation, what is called the University of France. 


INTRODUCTION. 


XI 


From tlie time when he became a member of the Coun¬ 
cil of Instruction, M. Cousin has been occupied with two 
principal objects that have been specially entrusted to him, 
the organization and direction of the Normal Schools, and 
the arrangement of the philosophical studies in the Facul¬ 
ties, and in the Royal, and Communal Colleges. Of the 
Normal School, he is the author of the present Constitution, 
as well as of its admirable plan of studies—remarkable for 
extreme simplicity, and at the same time uniting the two¬ 
fold excellence of being both systematic and practical. 
Tliis plan of study, which may serve as a model for all 
Normal Schools, consists in dividing the course into three 
years. The first year, the pupils are treated as young men 
just come from the colleges : and the object is to go over, 
systematize, and perfect the instiuction already received, 
without rising much above it. The second year, they are 
regarded as scholars, whose knowledge is to be enlarged 
and cultivated in every direction, as if they were future 
candidates for the different academies of the Institute. The 
third year, the pupils are no longer treated as students 
come from the colleges whose course of study is to be 
reviewed, nor as men of Letters in the general sense of the 
word; but as professors, who are to be instructed, not in 
the sciences, but in the art of teaching them. We have 
not space to explain the system by which, in the course of 
three years, the peculiar talents and aptitudes of the pupils 
are brought out, by which their particular destination for 
the different departments of public instruction may be in¬ 
dicated. 

For the improvement of philosophical instruction, M. 
Cousin has arranged a system no less perfect, the details 
of which could not here be easily explained. The result, 
however, has been that the methods of teaching philosophy 
in the colleges have been greatly improved, and a new zeal 
in the study of it everywhere awakened. 

There is another department of public instruction, even 
more important perhaps, in which M. Cousin has rendered 
important public service, and acquired a still stronger 
claim to the gratitude of the country. We mean popular 
education. Cousin is not a democrat. He loves the peo- 


Xll 


INTRODUCTION. 


pie; he sprung from them, as he often says ; but in place 
of a vehement eagerness for securing immediately the 
“ rights” of the people, he would have unceasing exertions 
made to give them light—the true light, that is, the light 
of morality and religion, a sufficient amount of knowledge 
and scientific instruction, subordinated to the inculcation 
of moral principles, and adapted to practical ends. Thus, 
ever since 1830, after organizing the Normal School, and 
the plan of instruction in philosophy, his attention has been 
seriously taken up with primary instruction. 

In 1831, M. Cousin solicited and received from the 
French government and from M. de Montalivet, then min¬ 
ister of Public Instruction, a special mission for examining 
the institutions for public instruction in Germany. He 
visited and inspected all the public establishments of Frank¬ 
fort ; of the Grand Duchy of Weimar; of Saxony, parti¬ 
cularly of Leipsic ; of Prussia, of Berlin especially. His 
Deport to the government makes two quarto volumes. He 
accomplished this service in an incredibly short time; but 
he knew how to investigate and observe; and he passed 
his days in examination of the schools, and his nights in 
writing his reports. His Deport has excited the admiration 
of accomplished teachers; has been translated into several 
languages ; and attracted general attention throughout 
Europe. It was moreover the basis of the law passed in 
1833, under the ministry of M. Guizot, and which M. 
Cousin brought forward in the Chamber of Peers. He has 
since been zealously engaged in perfecting all the regula¬ 
tions and details which the passage of that law rendered 
requisite. Besides his Deport on Primary Instruction 
in Germany, he gave, subsequently, a memoir on the 
Secondary Instruction of Prussia, which became the 
basis of a project for a law presented to the Chamber 
of Peers. 

The eminent services of Cousin in the cause of truth 
and letters, had long pointed him out as a candidate for 
the French Academy ; of which he was elected a member 
after the death of M. Fourier. Subsequently he was chosen 
a member of the Academy of Moral and Political Sciences ; 
and here, in the philosophical section, he has displayed his 


INTRODUCTION. 


Xlll 


characteristic activity and zeal, in a variety of memoirs 
and reports. 

When the new law was passed by which members of the 
Institute became eligible to the peerage, Cousin was among 
the first persons promoted by the king to that dignity. He 
was made a peer of France, Oct. 1832, along with De Sacy, 
Thenard, and Yillemain. M. Cousin rarely speaks in the 
Chamber of Peers. Having no wish to engage in public 
affairs, and destitute of all political ambition, he takes part 
in the discussions of that body, only when some question 
relating to public instruction is before the Chamber; or on 
extremely rare occasions, when no good citizen should keep 
silence* 

The following are the principal philosophical works of M. 
Cousin, which may be mentioned somewhat in chronological 
order. 

I. The works of Proclus , published from the unprinted 
MSS. in the Royal Library of Paris, with various readings 
and commentaries. This work is iu six volumes, octavo; 
and was published between the years 1820 and 1827. 

II. The works of Descartes in eleven volumes, octavo; 
the only complete edition, we believe, of his works. 1824— 
1826. 

III. In 1826, appeared the first edition of his Philoso¬ 
phical Fragments, with an extremely interesting preface con¬ 
taining some profound expositions of his system. Of this 
work he published a second edition in 1833, with another 
preface of considerable length, which has attracted great 
attention in Germany, and in Europe at large. 

IV. In 1828, he published a volume under the title of 
New Philosophical Fragments —containing many rich fruits 
of his studies in ancient philosophy. 

Y. The same year he also gave a course of Lectures, 
which was published under the title of Introduction to the 
History of Philosophy . This volume has been presented to 
the American public, in the spirited and faithful translation 
of Mr. Linberg. 

* The foregoing biographical notices of M. Cousin are taken 
almost literally from an article in a monthly Journal published at 
p.iris, under the title of the Piographe, which appeared in 1835, 
after the first edition of this work had been put forth. 

C 


XIV 


INTRODUCTION. 


YI. In 1829, was printed his translation of Tenneman’s 
Manual of the History of Philosophy, in two volumes. 

VII. The same year he delivered a course of lectures, 
which was published, in two volumes, under the title of 
History of the Philosophy of the Eighteenth Century. 

Till. An edition of the posthumous works of M. I)e 
Biran , with a preface which is itself a philosophical treatise. 

IX. A work of considerable magnitude on the Meta¬ 
physics of Aristotle —presented as a report to the Institute. 

X. He has recently published a great work, on the Scho¬ 
lastic Philosophy, including the unprinted manuscripts of 
Abelard. 

XI. We mention last his translation of the works of 
Plato, with critical notes and philosophical introductions ; 
this work, though commenced several years ago, is not yet 
completed. Eleven volumes, we believe, have now been 
published ; and it is the intention of the translator to bring 
this truly great and noble performance to a speedy conclu¬ 
sion. 

If to these, we add the Reports on the State of Public 
Instruction in Germany; and one on Public Instruction in 
Holland, published last year; to say nothing of numerous 
memoirs and special dissertations;—we shall have a strong 
impression of the indefatigable zeal and laborious diligence, 
with which M. Cousin has devoted himself to the favoured 
objects of his life. But with M. Cousin, to finish one work 
seems only to be a preparation to begin another. Thus, in 
a letter recently received, after speaking of having finished 
his work on the Scholastic philosophy, “ an enormous la¬ 
bour, a greatquarto of nine hundred pages”—which had cost 
him more than anything else in his whole life, he adds ; “I 
am now at work upon Plato ; nor shall I quit till I have 
finished the whole translation of those beautiful and immor¬ 
tal dialogues. It will then be necessary to give an ex¬ 
position of the Metaphysics of Aristotle, and to prepare a 
new edition of my Report concerning that ancient and 
obscure monument.When I have finished the trans¬ 

lation of Plato, I shall take up the German philosophy; 
and here I shall endeavour to be useful to America. In the 
midst of all these labours, I must not forget education; for 



INTRODUCTION. 


XV 


without education, philosophy addresses but a very few 
minds; and, with Plato and Aristotle, I regard Pedagogy 
as a part of practical philosophy.” 

Cousin is now engaged in preparing for publication 
another volume of his Report on Instruction in Germany. 
It is to be devoted to an account of the state of Higher In¬ 
struction in Prussia. 

It should be mentioned also that a volume has been pub¬ 
lished of Cousin’s lectures for 1818, on the Foundations of 
the Absolute Ideas of the True, the Beautiful, and the Good. 
It is edited by Mr. Adolphe Gamier from the best collation 
that could be made of the notes taken by Cousin’s pupils 
during the delivery of the course. It is published with 
the sanction of Cousin—and though defective in style and 
in the development of his thoughts, it contains the sub¬ 
stance of his lectures. 

Mr. Vacherot, assistant professor to Cousin, is also 
bringing out in a similar manner Cousin’s course for 1811), 
on the History of Moral Philosophy in the eighteenth cen¬ 
tury. 

M. Cousin is still in the vigour of life, and it is to be 
hoped that he may yet contribute much more to the cause 
of philosophy anti to the interests of truth and science, to 
which his life has been devoted. Eminent ability and pro¬ 
found learning, when animated by the pure and noble spirit 
which has ever characterized and distinguished the labours 
of M. Cousin, cannot but promote the cause of truth in 
whatever department they are manifested. We may here, 
adduce the testimony of one of the ablest writers in the 
Edinburgh Review, who, in an article on the lectures of 
M. Cousin for 1828, appears indeed in opposition to Cou¬ 
sin’s system, yet concerning the author, remarks: “ He has 
consecrated his life and labours to philosophy, and to phi¬ 
losophy alone; nor has he approached the sanctuary with 
unwashed hands. The editor of Proclus and of Descartes, 
the translator and interpreter of Plato, and the promised 
expositor of Kant, will not be accused of partiality in the 
choice of his pursuits while his two works under the title 
of Philosophical Fragments , bear ample evidence to the 
c 2 


XVI 


INTRODUCTION. 


learning, elegance, and distinguished ability of their author. 
Taking him all in all, in Trance, M. Cousin stands alone; 
nor can we contemplate his character and accomplishments, 
without the sincerest admiration, even while we dissent 
from almost every principle of his philosophy.”—The prin¬ 
ciples of philosophy here referred to by this writer, relate 
mainly to Cousin’s solution of the problem concerning the 
positive knowledge of the infinite and absolute, by the 
human mind; or, in other words, the possibility of philo¬ 
sophy, considered as the science of anything beyond the 
phenomema of our own minds; this is affirmed by Cousin, 
and denied by this writer. 

In regard to the peculiar system of philosophy embraced 
and taught by M. Cousin, a brief exposition was attempted 
in the first edition, which is rendered unnecessary by the 
plan of the present edition. In place of it, I have preferred 
to let the author speak in his own words in the extracts 
which will be found in the appendix. An extended expo¬ 
sition of this system, is not perhaps necessary to the com¬ 
prehension of the portion of his lectures herewith presented 
to the public; inasmuch as the work consists almost entirely 
of special analyses and critical discussions complete in 
themselves, which may be sufficiently judged of from the 
reader’s general acquaintance with philosophical language 
and systems, and from so much of his system as is exhibited 
in them. Indeed, except in his oral instructions, M. Cousin 
has developed his philosophy rather in its applications, by 
history and criticism, than in a full and systematic expo¬ 
sition of its principles. Outlines of his system are given 
in Programs of some of his courses of lectures published 
in the Philosophical Fragments. They contain, however, 
b arely the briefest indications. The reader will find one 
of these programs printed at the end of this volume. A 
little fuller exposition of the fundamental principles of this 
system, may be found in the Prefaces to the Fragments of 
portions of which a translation will also be found among 
the additional pieces ; and also in the Introduction to the 
History of Philosophy , to which the reader is referred. 

The system of M. Cousin has received the appellation 


introduction. 


XVII 


of Eclecticism. By this however, the doctrines of New 
Platonism are not to be understood, as has been neverthe¬ 
less very erroneously stated.* Neither is it a Syncretism, 
or gross mixture of all systems,—the impracticable project 
of conciliating all doctrines and opinions, which can only 
result in the confusion of inconsistent principles, without 
any scientific unity and connection. On the contrary, it 
is a distinct scientific theory,—having its method, its prin¬ 
ciple, and its consequences. So far from being an arbitrary 
selecting and bringing together of doctrines and notions 
on the grounds of taste and preference, its processes are 
throughout, strictly scientific and critical. Its eclectic cha¬ 
racter consists precisely in the pretension of applying its 
own distinctive principles to the criticism of all other 
systems,—discriminating in each its part of truth and its 
part of error,—and combining the part of truth found in 
every partial, exclusive, and therefore erroneous system, 

•North American Review for July, 1829, p. 70. The statement 
made by the writer is contradicted by the whole tenor of M. Cou¬ 
sin’s criticism of New Platonism , contained in the Hhtoire de la 
Philos, au \§me Siecle, (Cnurs de Philosophies 1829,) Vol. I. p. 
317 — 332. Consin there show: that the Alexandrine school, with 
the pretension and nr.me of being ■> >ystem of Eclecticism, was ac¬ 
tually and distinctively a system oi' Mysticism, one of the four greyt 
systems under which he classes all the philosophical schools. As 
such, he proceeds to subject it to he criticism of his own principles, 
as distinct and different. He develops its essent’al traits, its prin¬ 
ciple and its consequences ; shows that as a system of Mysticism, its 
philosophy is distinctively religious ; the heart of the system is its 
theodicy, or doctrine concerrvng the divine nature ; there is its 
principle, while it: analysis, its psychology, and even its physics, 
are all made for and in the interest of its theology ; that its prin¬ 
ciple “ contains a fundamental error”—involving a perversion of the 
true idea of God, and leading to all those mystical doctrines and 
practices, theurgy, incantation, magic, etc., which the writer in the 
Review talks of Cusin’s having “taken under his peculiar patron¬ 
age.”— It is but fair however, to state, that the wiiser could not 
have seen the work of Cousin which has just been refer! ed to, as it 
had not probably then been published. Still, with the other writings 
of Cousin in his hands, it is scarcely less remarkable that he should 
have fallen into such an error. It is only another instance of the 
influence of casual associations. The writer had probably been 
always in the habit of connecting the word Eclecticism with the 
doctrines of the Alexandrine or Neiv Platonic school. 

c 3 


XV111 


INTRODUCTION. 


into a higher, comprehensive system. But the attentive 
reader will gather perhaps a sufficient view of the system 
of M. Cousin from the pieces to which reference has been 
made ; and we will here only remark that concerning the 
success of M. Cousin’s attempt to fix the infinite as a 
positive in knowledge which constitutes the chief and fun¬ 
damental peculiarity of his system, and concerning the 
possibility of any solution of this problem, different opin¬ 
ions may be entertained. But whatever may be thought 
in regard to these points, a high interest attaches to M. 
Cousin’s labours as an expounder of the history of philo¬ 
sophy. His profound and accurate acquaintance with the 
whole range of philosophical learning, his exact and just 
comprehension of philosophical doctrines and systems, and 
his lucid and faithful exposition of them, will certainly be 
appreciated by all competent judges. In general critical 
ability, and particularly in the talent for analysis, he has 
few equals. 

We now give some account of the course of lectures on 
the History of Philosophy in the Eighteenth Century, of 
which this volume contains a part. It must, however, be 
limited to the briefest indications. 

Having, in his Introduction to the History of Philosophy , 
explained the scope and method, the system and general 
spirit of his instruction, M. Cousin proceeds, in the lectures 
on the philosophy of the eighteenth century, to elucidate, 
extend, and confirm the historical principles before devel¬ 
oped, by applying them to the eighteenth century. It is 
his principle, that the philosophy of an age proceeds from 
all the elements of which the age is composed; hence the 
necessity of studying the philosophy of the eighteenth 
century, first in the general history of that period. 

The general character of the eighteenth century resem¬ 
bles that of the two preceding centuries, inasmuch as it 
continues the characteristic movement of that period; it 
differs from it, only as it develops that movement on a 
larger scale. The Middle Ages was the reign of authority— 
everything was fixed and controlled; the sixteenth and 
seventeenth centuries commenced a new movement, in the 
spirit of independence; it was the age of conflict and 


INTRODUCTION. 


Nix 

revolution. The sixteenth and seventeenth centuries under¬ 
mined and shook the middle ages. The mission of the 
eighteenth century was to continue and complete that 
movement,—to overthrow and put an end to the middle 
ages. 

This mission determines the general spirit of the 
eighteenth century. This spirit is displayed in all the great 
manifestations of the age—political—moral—religious 
—literary—and scientific. In all these respects, there is a 
diminution of the powers and influences which predominated 
in the middle ages; and, finally, the extension and pre¬ 
dominance of new and unknown powers and influences. 
The spirit of the eighteenth century is a spirit of indepen¬ 
dence, of scrutiny, of analysis, in regard to all things. 
This movement began obscurely, and proceeded with a 
comparatively slow and latent progress at first, but with a 
constantly accelerating march towards the close of the 
period. 

The general character of the 'philosophy of the eighteenth 
century is determined by the general character of the 
period. The philosophy of this epoch likewise continues, 
develops, and completes the philosophical movement of the 
former period. This movement was in the reaction against 
the spirit of authority in philosophy which predominated 
in the middle ages. This reaction—which began in the 
sixteenth century, by the springing up of the spirit of in¬ 
dependence ; and which continued with increasing strength 
during the seventeenth—gains the victory in the eighteenth; 
completes and puts an end to the middle ages in the matter 
of philosophy. The sixteenth century was, to this philoso¬ 
phical revolution, what the fifteenth was to the religious 
reformation—a period of necessary preparation, filled with 
struggles, and often with unsuccessful struggles, against 
the predominant spirit of authority; and, like that, it had 
its martyrs. Bruno and Yanini were the Huss and 
Jerome of this philosophical revolution. The sixteenth 
century was a blind attack upon the principle of authority, 
as it existed in the Scholastic philosophy. The seven¬ 
teenth century renewed the conflict, established the revolu¬ 
tion, and destroyed Scholasticism. The mission of the 


XX 


INTRODUCTION. 


eighteenth century was to continue and consummate this 
revolution, by overthrowing the general spirit of authority 
in philosophy, and establishing the general spirit of in¬ 
dependence. In fact it generalized the conflict of the 
preceding period ; propagated the spirit of independence 
in every direction of thinking; and, finally, established 
philosophy as a distinct and independent power. 

Thus the general mission of the eighteenth century was 
to continue and complete the movement of independence, 
begun in the two preceding centuries; and to put a final 
end to the middle ages in everything,—politics, life, art, 
and science. 

And analogous to this, the special mission of philosophy 
in the same century, was to complete the movement before 
begun therein, to put an end to the middle ages in regard 
to philosophy, by destroying, in this respect, the principle 
of authority, and circumscribing it within its proper limits, 
those of theology. 

Now this was a complex and laborious task, mixed with 
results of good and of evil. The reaction against authority 
might go too far; freedom is liable to be pushed to licen¬ 
tiousness ; and while the object is to reduce religious autho¬ 
rity within its legitimate sphere, namely theology, theology 
itself may be attacked. Instances of this occur in the 
philosophy of the eighteenth century ; still, a large share 
of the most illustrious names are no less distinguished for 
a profound submission and respect to religion, than by the 
spirit of independence in regard to philosophy. 

Next comes the consideration of the Method of philosophy 
in the eighteenth century. The middle ages was the reign 
of Hypothesis. The sixteenth century was a sort of insur¬ 
rection of the new spirit against the old, and could not 
organize itself and take the form and consistence of an 
established Method. But in the seventeenth century, the 
true Method began to be formed under Bacon and Des¬ 
cartes ; though in the latter it ran out at last into hypothesis. 
In the eighteenth century, the question concerning Method 
became the fundamental question. In this century was 
completed the triumph of the method of experiment over 
hypothesis ; its triumph, that is, in regard to its principle, 


INTRODUCTION. 


xxi 


namely, analysis. Analysis was generalized, extended every¬ 
where, and established as an exclusive power in philosophy. 
The triumph of analysis has likewise its part of good and 
its part of evil. Its good is found in the destruction of 
hypothesis, and of false synthesis, and in a vast collection 
of accurate experiments and observations. Its evil is found 
in the neglect of synthesis, which is, equally with analysis, 
an element of the true experimental method. 

Then follows a view of the different systems of philosophy 
embraced in the eighteenth century. These systems are 
the same as those of the two preceding centuries ; neither 
more nor less. The only difference is, that the philosophy 
of the eighteenth century develops these systems in grander 
proportions, and on a larger scale. They are the same 
systems, moreover, which are to be found in the fifteenth 
and sixteenth centuries,—in the middle ages,—in Greece, 
—in the East. The reason is, that all these systems have 
their root in human nature, independent of particular times 
and places. The human mind is the original, of which 
philosophy is the representation, more or less exact and 
complete. We are therefore to seek from the human mind 
the explanation of the different systems, which, born of 
philosophy, share all its changes, its progress, and its per- 
fectionment;—which starting up in the East, in the cradle 
of humanity, after traversing the globe, and successively 
appearing in Greece, in the middle ages, in the modern 
philosophy commencing with the sixteenth century,—have 
met together in Europe in the eighteenth century. 

The result of this examination gives as a matter of fact 
in the history of philosophy, four great schools or systems 
of philosophy, which comprehend all the attempts of the 
philosophical spirit, and which are found in every epoch of 
the world. These systems are Sensualism, Idealism, Skep¬ 
ticism, and Mysticism. 

Sensualism, takes sensation as the sole principle of 
knowledge. Its pretension is that there is not a single 
element in the consciousness, which is not explicable by 
sensation. This exclusive pretension is its error. A part 
of our knowledge can be explained by sensation; but an¬ 
other part, and that a very important part, cannot. Its 


XXII 


INTRODUCTION. 


necessary consequences are fatalism, materialism, and athe¬ 
ism. 

On the other hand, Idealism, as an exclusive system, 
takes its point of departure from the reason or intelligence, 
from the ideas or laws which govern its activity; but 
instead of contenting itself with denying the exclusive pre¬ 
tension of Sensualism, and asserting the origin of an im¬ 
portant part of our knowledge in the reason, and thus 
vindicating the truths destroyed by Sensualism,—it finds 
all reality in the mind alone ; denies matter; absorbs all 
things, God and the universe, into individual consciousness 
and that into thought; just as, by a contrary error, Sensual¬ 
ism absorbs consciousness and all things into sensation. 
Sensualism and Idealism are two dogmatisms equally true in 
one view, equally false in another; and both result in nearly 
equal extravagances. 

Skepticism, in its first form, is the appearance of com¬ 
mon sense on the scene of philosophy. Disgusted with the 
extravagances of the two exclusive systems, which mutually 
conflict and destroy each other, reflection proceeds to ex¬ 
amine the bases, the processes and results of those systems; 
and it easily and undeniedly demonstrates that in all these 
respects, there is much error in both the systems. But in 
its weakness, it falls likewise into exclusiveness and ex¬ 
aggeration ; and finally declares that every system is false, 
and that there is no such thing as truth and certainty within 
the grasp of the mind. Thus skepticism results in equal 
extravagance. Its distinctive position, that there is no 
truth, no certainty, is the absurd and suicidal dogmatism : 
It is certain that there is no certainty. 

The fourth system is Mysticism. The word is not used 
vaguely, but in a precise sense; and designates the prin¬ 
ciple of a distinct philosophical system. The human mind, 
indeed, when tossed about amidst conflicting systems, and 
distressed by the sense of inability to decide for itself, yet 
feeling the inward want of faith,—a spirit the reverse of 
the dogmatic and scornful skepticism, may despair of phi¬ 
losophy, renounce reflection, and take refuge within the 
circle of theology. This is doubtless often the fact, 
though there is, in the opinion of Cousin, an obvious in- 


INTRODUCTION. xxiii 

consistency in it; for it takes for granted, that the objections 
which Skepticism brings against every system, and which 
the mind cannot refute, are not as valid against a religious 
as a philosophical system. The renunciation of reflection 
is not, however, what Cousin means by Mysticism. It is 
reflection itself building its system on an element of con¬ 
sciousness overlooked by Sensualism, and by Idealism, 
and by Skepticism. This element is spontaneity, which is the 
basis of reflection. Spontaneity is the element of faith, of 
religion. Reflection effects a sort of philosophical compro¬ 
mise between religion and philosophy, by falling back and 
grounding itself upon that fact, anterior to itself, which is the 
point where religion and philosophy meet—the fact of 
spontaneity. This fact is primitive, unreflective, accom¬ 
panied by a lively faith, and is exalting in its influence. 
It is reason, referred to its eternal principle, and speaking 
with his authority in the human intelligence. It is on 
this element of truth that Mysticism reposes. But this 
system, like the others in the exaggeration of its principles 
and in its neglect of the other elements of human nature, 
engenders multiplied extravagances; the delusions of the 
imagination and nervous sensibility, taken for revelations, 
neglect of outward reality, visions, theurgy, etc. 

These systems all have their utility ; positively, in 
developing respectively some element of intelligence; and 
in cultivating some part of human nature and of science;— 
negatively, in limiting each other ; in combatting each 
other’s errors ; and in repressing each other’s extra¬ 
vagances. 

As to the intrinsic merit, it is a favourite position with 
Cousin : They exist; therefore there is a reason for their 
existence ; therefore they are true, in whole or in part. 
Error is the law of our nature; but not absolute error. 
Absolute error is unintelligible, inadmissible, impossible. 
It is not the error that the human mind believes ; it is 
only in virtue of the truths blended with it that error 
is admitted. These four systems are, respectively, partly 
true and partly false. The eclectic spirit is not absolutely to 
reject any one of them, nor to become the dupe of any one of 
them ; but, by a discriminating criticism, to discern and ac- 


XXIV 


INTRODUCTION. 


cept the truth in each. This is the scope and attempt of 
M. Cousin’s historical and critical labours. 

These four systems are the fundamental elements of all 
philosophy, and consequently of the history of philosophy. 
They are not only found in the eighteenth century, but 
they exist and re-appear successively in every great epoch 
of the history of man. Previously, therefore, to entering 
upon the examinations of these systems as they exist in 
the eighteenth century, Cousin reviews their respective 
antecedents in the East, in Greece, in the middle age and 
in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. He traces and 
develops the Sensual, the Ideal, the Skeptical anch the 
Mystical Schools, in each of those periods. The principal 
portion of his first volume is occupied with this review. 
Our limits forbid us to follow him. It can only be remark¬ 
ed, that along with the other schools, he finds also the 
Sensual school. He finds it with all its distinctive traits in 
the philosophy of India; traces it through the twelve cen¬ 
turies filled by Grecian philosophy, from its commence¬ 
ment in the Ionian school, to Aristotle and the Peripatetics; 
thence to its re-appearance in the middle age, involved in 
the scholastic Nominalism of Occam ; thence to its more 
decided announcement in Pomponatius, Telesio, and Cam- 
panella, in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries; and finally 
in modern philosophy, in Hobbes, Gassendi, and others, the 
immediate predecessors of Locke. He then comes to a 
detailed examination of Locke as the true father of the 
Sensual school in the eighteenth century and of the various 
Sensual systems included in it. In this examination of 
the Essay on the Understanding, he signalizes the general 
spirit and the method of that work ; he exhibits its 
systematic princip’e, its applications, and all its conse¬ 
quences, explicit or involved. He carefully discriminates 
its part of truth from its part of error; and if his conclu¬ 
sions result in the overthrow of the exclusive and systematic 
principles and principal positions of Locke’s work, it is 
because his analysis led him to this. Of the truth and 
exactness of this analysis, the reader will judge. 

C. S. H. 


CRITICAL EXAMINATION 


OF 

LOCKE’S ESSAY 

ON 

THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 

CHAPTER FIRST. 


D 



CONTENTS OF CHAPTER I. 


General spirit ot the Essay on the Human Understanding. — Its 
Method. Study of the Human Understanding itself, as the neces¬ 
sary introduction to all true philosophy.— Study of the Human Un¬ 
derstanding in its action, in its phenomena, or ideas .— Division of 
the inquiries relating to ideas, and determination of the order in 
which those investigations should be made. To postpone the log¬ 
ical and ontological question concerning the truth or falsity of ideas, 
and the legitimacy or illegitimacy of their application to their respec¬ 
tive objects ; and to concentrate our investigations upon the study of 
ideas in themselves,—and in that, to begin by describing ideas as 
they actually are, and then to proceed to the investigation of their 
origin.—Examination of the Method of Locke. Its merit : 'he 
postpones and places last the question of the truth or falsity of 
ideas. Its fault: he entirely neglects the question concerning the 
actual character of ideas, and begins with that of their origin. First 
mistake of Method, chances of error which it involves.—General 
tendency of the School of Locke. Recapitulation. 


27 


CHAPTER I. 

The first question which arises, in examining the Essay 
on the Human Understanding respects the authority upon 
which it relies in the last analysis. Does the author seek 
for truth at his own risk, by the force of reason alone; or 
does he recognize a foreign and superior authority to which 
he submits, and from which he borrows the ground of his 
judgments ? This is indeed, as you know, the question 
which it is necessary to put at the outset to every philoso¬ 
phical work, in order to determine its most general character, 
and its plaee in the history of philosophy, and even of 
civilization. A single glance is enough to show that Locke 
is a free seeker of truth. Everywhere he appeals to the 
reason. He starts from this authority, and from this alone; 
and if he subsequently admits another, it is because he ar¬ 
rived at it by reason ; so that it is the reason which governs 
him, and, as it were, holds the reins of his mind. Locke 
belongs then to the great family of independent philoso¬ 
phers. The Essay on the Human Understanding is a fruit 
of the movement of independence in the eighteenth century, 
and it has sustained and redoubled that movement. This 
character passed from the master to his whole school, and 
was thus recommended to all the friends of human rea¬ 
son.—I should add that in Locke, independence is always 
united with a sincere and profound respect for everything 
worthy of respect. Locke is a philosopher, and he is at the 
same time a Christian. That is one of his titles of honour. 
But it must be said that if in the Essay on the Human 
Understanding there is a tincture of sound piety and true 
Christianity, it is Christianity in a sort reduced to its most 
general expression. Locke frequently quotes the sacred 
D 2 


28 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


scriptures and pays homage to them ; but never enters into 
the interior of those doctrines and mysteries in which, never¬ 
theless, the metaphysics of Christianity resides. Locke is 
'a child of the reformation and of protestantism; he even 
inclines toward Socinianism, and though certainly within 
the bounds of Christianity, is upon the very limit of it. Such 
is the chief. As to his school, you know what it has been. 
The master is independent, yet still Christian; the disciples 
are independent, but their independence passed rapidly into 
indifference, and from indifference to hostility. I mention 
all this, because it is important you should hold in your 
hand the thread of the movement and progress of the sen¬ 
sual school. 

~ I now pass to the question which comes next after that 
concerning the general spirit of every philosophical work, 
namely, the question of Method. You know the impor¬ 
tance of this question. It ought by this time to be very 
obvious to you, that as is the method of a philosopher, so 
will be his system, and that the adoption of a method de¬ 
cides the destinies of a philosophy. Hence our strict ob¬ 
ligation to insist on the method of Locke with all the care 
of which we are capable. What then is that method which, 

J in its germ, contains the whole system of Locke, the system 
that has produced the Sensual school of the eighteenth 
century ? We will let Locke speak for himself. In his 
preface he expresses himself thus : 

“ Were it fit to trouble thee with the history of this Essay, 
I should tell thee, that five or six friends, meeting in my 
chamber, and discoursing on a subject very remote from 
this, found themselves quickly at a stand, by the difficulties 
that arose on every side. After we had awhile puzzled our¬ 
selves without coming any nearer a resolution of those doubts 
which perplexed us, it came into my thoughts that we took 
a wrong course; and that before we set ourselves upon 
inquiries of that nature, it was necessary to examine our 
own abilities, and see what objects our understandings were 
or were not, fitted to deal with. This I proposed to the 
company, who all readily assented ; and thereupon it was 
agreed that this should be our first inquiry, Some hasty 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


29 


and undigested thoughts on a subject I had never before 
considered, which I set down against our next meeting, 
gave the first entrance into this discourse; which having 
been thus begun by chance, was continued by intreaty; 
written by incoherent parcels ; and after long intervals of 
neglect, resumed again, as my humour or occasions per¬ 
mitted ; and at last, in a retirement, where an attendance 
on my health gave me leisure, it was brought into that 
order thou now seest it.” 

He returns to the same thought in the Introduction which 
follows the preface : 

B. I. Ch. I. § 2.—“ I shall not at present meddle 
with the physical consideration of the mind, or trouble 
myself to examine wherein its essence consists, or by what 
motions of our spirits, or alterations of our bodies, we come 
to have any sensations by our organs, or any ideas in our 
understandings ; and whether those ideas do, in their for¬ 
mation, any or all of them, depend on matter or no. These 
are speculations, which, however curious and entertaining, 
I shall decline, as lying out of my way, in the design I am 
now upon. It shall suffice to my present purpose, to 
consider the discerning faculties of a man, as they are 
employed about the objects which they have to do with.” 

Locke is persuaded that this is the only way to repress 
the rashness of philosophy, and at the same time to en¬ 
courage useful investigations : 

B. I. Ch. I. § 4.—“ If, by this inquiry into the nature 
of the understanding, I can discover the powers thereof, 
how far they reach, to what things they are in any degree 
proportionate, and where they fail us, I suppose it may be 
of use to prevail with the busy mind of man, to be more 
cautious in meddling with things exceeding its comprehen¬ 
sion ; to stop when it is at the utmost extent of its tether; 
and to sit down in a quiet ignorance of those things, which, 
upon examination, are found to be beyond the reach of our 
capacities. We should not then perhaps be so forward, 


30 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


out of an affectation of an universal knowledge, to raise 
questions and perplex ourselves and others about things 
to which our understandings are not suited, and of which 
we cannot form in our minds any clear and distinct per¬ 
ceptions, or whereof (as it has perhaps too often happened) 
we have not any notions at all. If we can find out how 
for the understanding can extend its view, how far it has 
faculties to attain certainty, and in what cases it can only 
judge and guess, we may learn to content ourselves with 
what is attainable by us in this state.” 

§ 6. “ When we know our own strength , we shall the 
better know what to undertake with hopes of success : and 
when we have well surveyed the powers of our own minds, 
and made some estimate what we may expect from them, 
we shall not be inclined either to sit still and not set our 
thoughts on work at all, in despair of knowing anything ; 
or, on the other side, question everything, and disclaim all 
knowledge, because some things are not to be understood. 

And again in the same section : 

“ It is of great use to the sailor, to know the length of 
his line, though he cannot with it fathom all the depths of 
the ocean. It is well he knows that it is long enough to 
reach the bottom at such places as are necessary to direct 
his voyage, and caution him against running upon shoals 
that may ruin him.” 

I will add but one more quotation : 

§ 7. w This was that which gave the first rise to this 
Essay concerning the understanding. For I thought that 
the first step towards satisfying several inquiries the mind 
of man was very apt to run into, was to take a survey of 
our own understandings, examine our own powers, and see 
to what things they were adapted. Till that was done, I 
suspected we began at the wrong end- 

I have brought together all these citations on purpose to 
convince you that they contain not merely a fugitive view, 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


31 


but a fixed rule—a Method. Now this method, in my 
judgment, is precisely the true method, the same which at 
this day constitutes the power and the hope of science. 
Unquestionably it exists in Locke obscurely and indefinitely, 
not only in its application, but even in its annunciation. 
In order to make it more clear and definite, let me present 
it in somewhat more modern language. 

Whatever be the object of knowledge or inquiry, God or 
the world, beings the most remote or near, you neither know 
nor can know them but under one condition, namely that 
(you have the faculty of knowledge in general; and you 
neither possess nor can attain a knowledge of them except 
in proportion to your general faculty of knowledge. What¬ 
ever you attain a knowledge of, the highest or lowest thing, 
vour knowledge in the last result rests, both in respect of 
its extent and of its legitimacy, upon the reach and the va¬ 
lidity of that faculty, by whatever name you call it,—Spirit, 
Reason, Mind, Intelligence, Understanding. Locke calls 
it Understanding. It follows, then, that the sound philoso¬ 
pher, instead of beginning with a blind and random appli¬ 
cation of the Understanding, ought first to e xam ine that 
faculty, to investigate its nature and its capacity ; otherwise 
he will be liable to endless aberrations and mistakes. Now the 
Understanding forms a part of human nature; and the study 
of the Understanding implies a more extended study—the 
study of human nature itself. This, then, is pre-eminently 
the study which ought to precede and direct all others. 
There is no part of philosophy which does not pre-suppose 
it, and borrow its light from it. Take for example, Logic, 
or the science of the rules which ought to direct the human 
mind,—what would it be without a knowledge of that which 
it is the object to direct, the human mind itself? So also 
of Morals , the Science of the principles and rides of action, 
—what could that be without a knowledge of the subject 
of morality, the moral agent, man, himself ? Politics , the 
science or the art of the government of social man, rests 
equally on a knowledge of man whom, in his social nature, 
society may develop, but cannot constitute. JEsthetics , 
the science of the Beautiful, and the theory of the Arts, has 
its root in the nature of a being made capable to recognize 



32 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


and reproduce the beautiful, to feel the particular emotions 
which attest its presence, and to awaken those emotions 
in other minds. So also if man were not a religious being, 
if none of his faculties reached beyond the finite and bounded 
sphere of this world, there would be for him no God. God 
exists for man , only in proportion to his faculties; and the 
examination of those faculties and of their capacity, is the 
indispensable condition of every sound Theodicy. In a 
word, the nature of man is implied in every science, how¬ 
ever apparently foreign. The study of man is then the 
necessary introduction to every science; and this study, 
call it Psychology, or by any other name; though it certainly 
is not the whole of Philosophy, must be allowed to be its 
foundation and its starting point. 

But is a knowledge of human nature, is Psychology, 
possible ? Without doubt it is; for it is an undeniable 
fact that nothing passes within us which we do not know, 
of which we have not a consciousness. Consciousness is 
a witness which gives us information of everything which 
takes place in the interior of our minds. It is not the prin¬ 
ciple of any of our faculties, but is a light to them all. It 
is not because we have the consciousness of it, that anything 
goes on within us ; but that which does go on within us, 
would be to us as though it did not take place, if it were 
not attested by consciousness. It is not by consciousness 
that we feel, or will, or think; but it is by it we know that 
we do all this. The authority of consciousness is the ulti¬ 
mate authority into which that of all the other faculties is 
resolvable, in this sense, namely, that if the former be 
overthrown, as it is thereby that the office and action, of 
all the others, even that of the faculty of knowing itself, 
comes to be known, their authority, without being in itself 
destroyed, would yet be unknown to us, and consequently 
nothing for us. Thus it is impossible for any person not 
to rely fully upon his own consciousness. At this point, 
skepticism itself expires ; for, as Descartes says, let a man 
doubt of every thing else, he cannot doubt that he doubts. 

(Consciousness, then, is an unquestionable authority; its 
testimony is infallible, and no individual is destitute of it. 
Consciousness is indeed more or less distinct, more or less 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


33 


vivid, but it is in all men. No one is unknown to himself, 
although very few know themselves perfectly, because all or 
nearly all make use of consciousness without applying them¬ 
selves to perfect, unfold, and understand it, by voluntary 
effort and attention. In all men, consciousness is a natural 
process; some elevate this natural process to the degree of 
an art, a method, by reflection, which is a sort of second 
consciousness, a free reproduction of the first; and as con¬ 
sciousness gives to all men a knowledge of what passes 
within them, so reflection gives the philosopher a certain 
knowledge of everything which falls under the eye of con¬ 
sciousness. It is to be observed that the question here is 
not concerning hypotheses or conjectures; for it is not even 
a question concerning a process of reasoning. It is solely 
( a question of facts, and of facts that are equally capable of 
being observed as those which come to pass on the scene 
of the outward world. The only difference is, the one are- 
exterior, the other interior; and as the natural action of 
our faculties carries us outward, it is more easy to observe 
the one than the other. But with a little atteution, volun¬ 
tary exertion, and practice, one may succeed in internal 
observation as well as in external. The talent for the 
latter is not more common than for the former. The num¬ 
ber of Bacons is not greater than the number of Descarteses. 
In fine, if Psychology were really more difficult than 
Physics, yet in its nature, the former is, equally with the 
latter, a science of observation, and consequently it has the 
same title and the same right to the rank of a positive 
science,* 


* [ Consciousness ,—This is a brief but sufficient demonstration of 
the possibility and validity of psychology. Before proceeding, how¬ 
ever, to the next topic—the objects of psychology,—it may be well 
for the student to reflect a little further upon the nature of con¬ 
sciousness. 

The fact of consciousness is the condition of all knowledge and all 
philosophy. It is “ the light of all our seeing.” The various 
definitions which have been given of this word by different writers, 
and the vagueness with which it has been used, appear to result from 
the difficulty of distinguishing the different elements which, in their 
inseparable and blended action, make up the complex whole of 
intellectual reality and life; or rather, in which variety, the unity 


34 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


But we must understand the proper objects of Psycho¬ 
logy. They are those of reflection, which again are those 
of consciousness. Now it is evident the objects of con¬ 
sciousness are neither the outward world, nor God, which 
are not given us in themselves; nor is it even the soul 
itself as to its substance, for if we had a consciousness of 
the substance of the soul, there would be no more dispute 
concerning its nature, whether it be material or spiritual. 
{ The only direct object of consciousness is the soul in its 

of intellectual life manifests itself. It is difficult to see the distinct 
in the inseparable ; to see a part in a whole, without confounding 
it with the whole. It is difficult, on the other hand, to distinguish 
without separating and destroying. And again, where any one ele¬ 
ment is present, and inseparably connected with each and all the 
other elements of a complex whole, there is great danger of con¬ 
founding it with some one or other of those elements, apart from 
which it is never found, while yet it is distinct from each and all of 
them. This is the case with regard to Consciousness. It is not the 
mind itself, but the light in which all the phenomena of the mind 
are reflected to itself. We know ourselves and everything that we 
know, only in the light of consciousness. We find ourselves and 
all things in consciousness. It is the light in which we see all things, 
yet it is not the seeing itself. It reveals to the mind its various 
modifications, its feelings, sensations, thoughts and volitions; yet, 
though connected with them, it is distinct from them all. It is nei¬ 
ther a pure passivity nor a voluntary activity, though it may appear 
on both hands to partake of the nature of the modifications of which 
it informs us. It is a spontaneity, a fact. It is neither a machine 
nor an agent. 11 is not a product of the mind, nor an effect of the will. 
Thought and volition are produced; but consciousness is a witness 
of our thoughts and volitions ; though the most eminent fact of con¬ 
sciousness—self affirmation—may indeed be conditioned by an act of 
the will; yet this reflective act is ulterior to the primitive, sponta¬ 
neous fact of consciousness, in which the me is first revealed in 
opposition to the not me. 

Consciousness, considered as the condition of perceiving imme¬ 
diately whatever passes within us, has, by some, been confounded 
with the internal sensibility. Reid,on the contrary, appears to re¬ 
gard it as a distinct and special faculty of the mind, whose office is 
in general to observe the operations of the other faculties. This 
view is rejected by Brown, who seems to consider consciousness as 
nothing more than a general word to express the aggregate of the 
phenomena or states of the mind. Many nice questions have been 
made by other writers, in regard to the discrimination of the words 
consciousness, self, and the me; and the distinctions that have been 
laid down in respect to these words may seem to many more subtle 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


35 


manifestion, that is in its faculties, that is to say again, its 
faculties in their exercise and action, in their application 
to their objects. But neither the objects of these faculties, 
nor their subject and substance, are objects of conscious¬ 
ness. The essence, the being ‘ in itself, whatever it be, 
whether of bodies, or of God, or of the soul, falls not under 
consciousness. It directly attains only to phenomena. 
If then phenomena are the sole objects of consciousness, 
and consequently of reflection, and consequently again 

than valid. Passing by them therefore, it is probably enough here 
to observe that consciousness is not to be confounded neither with 
the sensibility (external or internal,) nor with the understanding, 
nor with the will; neither is it a distinct and special faculty of the 
mind ; nor is it the principle of any of the faculties ; nor is it, on 
the other hand, the product of them. Still less is it a mere general¬ 
ization to express the total series of representations, a merely 
verbal or logical bond to bring into a collective uni;y the various 
phenomena of the mind. 11 is the condition of all knowledge : it is 
that in which all the representations of the mind are revealed to the 
self, in opposition to the not-self. It is not the result of experience, 
(though conditioned by it,) since it is pre-supposed in experience, and 
renders experience possible. For there is no experience without 
knowledge; and in order to knowledge it is not only necessary 
that the sensibility should be affected, but that the mind, re-acting 
upon the sensibility and connecting itself with its representations, 
or mental phenomena, as the joint effec', should be produced; and 
these representations, as objects when perceived through the light 
of conciousness by the intelligence as the subject, constitute know¬ 
ledge direct and immediate, which, in its most general term, is 
feeling ; or if the conscious representation is referred exclusively to 
the subject, sensation / if to the object, perception. Consciousness 
has been defined in the Critical Philosophy, as the act of referring 
that in a phenomenon which belongs to the subject, to the subject; 
and that which belongs to object, to the object: as the power of 
distinguishing ourselves from external objects, and from our own 
thoughts. Perhaps the most correct description of the mind in con¬ 
sciousness, i. e., of the conscious states of the mind, is the being 
aware of the phenomena of the mind—of that which is present to the 
mind: and if self consciousness be distinguished, not in genere, 
but as a special determination of consciousness, it is the being aware 
of ourselves, as of the me in opposition to the not me, or as the 
permanent subject, distinct from the phenomena of the mind and 
from all the outward causes of them. 

In regard to the distinction between the natural or spontaneous, 
and the philosophical or reflected consciousness, it may be remarked, 
that while Locke uses the word reflection to signify the natural con- 


36 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


of psychology, it follow that the proper characterise of psy¬ 
chology is a complete separation of itself from every research 
relative to essences, that is from ontology. True philosophy 
does not destroy ontology, but it adjourns it. Psychology 
does not dethrone ontology, but precedes and clears it up. 
It does not employ itself in constructing a physical or 
metaphysical romance concerning the nature of the soul, 
but it studies the soul in the action of its faculties, in the 
phenomena which result therefrom, and which consciousness 
may attain, and does directly attain. 

This may put in clear view the true character of the 
Essay on the Human Understanding. It is a work of 
psychology and not of ontology. Locke does not investigate 
the nature and principle of the understanding, but the ac¬ 
tion itself of this faculty, the phenomena by which it is 
developed and manifested. Now the phenomena of the 
understanding Locke calls ideas . This is the technical word 
which he everywhere employs to designate that by which 
the understanding manifests itself, and that to which it im¬ 
mediately applies itself: 

Introduction, § 8. “ I have used it, 5 * says he, “ to 
express whatever is meant (we must here recollect the pre- 

sciousness common to all reflecting beings, Cousin uses it above to 
imply a particular determination of consciousness by the will. It 
is a voluntary falling back upon the natural and spontaneous 
consciousness; it is an act of self-reduplication. It is in this sense 
that he regards reflection as the special attribute of the philoso¬ 
phic mind. All men are endowed with the natural consciousness; 
while in many the faculty of higher speculation is never developed. 
The one is like the scales in common use, and answers the ends of 
ordinary life, the other is like the golden scales of the chemist, to 
appreciate the slightest weight; or, the one is the vision of the unaid¬ 
ed eye, the other the vision aided by the microscope. Coleridge 
makes the same distinction with Cousin ; but he does not consider 
the power of philosophical insight to be as common as Cousin would 
make it: “ it is neither possible,” says he, “nor necessary for all 
men, or for many, to he philosophers. There is a philosophic, (and, 
inasmuch as it is actualized by an effort of freedom, an artificial) 
consciousness which lies beneath, or, as it were behind the sponta¬ 
neous consciousness natural to all reflecting beings.” (Biogr. Lit. 
Vol. 1., p. 151, New York edition.) The whole passage is profoun¬ 
dly interesting, and the reader is particularly referred to it.]—T r. 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


37 


decessors of Locke, the Schoolmen,) by phantasm , notion , 
species , or whatever it is which the mind can be employed 
about in thinking. I presume it will be easily granted me 
that there are such ideas in men’s minds; every one is 
conscious of them in himself; and men’s words and actions 
will satisfy him that they are in others.” 

It is very obvious that by ideas are here meant the pheno¬ 
mena of the understanding, of thought, which the conscious¬ 
ness of every one can perceive in himself when he thinks, 
and which are equally in the consciousness of other men, if 
we judge by their words and actions. Ideas are to the 
understanding what effects are to their causes. The under¬ 
standing reveals itself by ideas, just as causes by their effects, 
which at once manifest and represent them. Hereafter we 
shall examine the advantages and disadvantages of this term, 
and the theory also which it involves. For the present it is 
enough to state it and to signalize it as the watchword of the 
philosophy of Locke. The study of the understanding is 
with Locke and with all his school, the study of ideas ; 
and hence the celebrated word Ideology, recently formed 
to designate the science of the human understanding. The 
source of this expression aheady lay in the Essay on the 
Human Understanding, and the Ideological school is the 
natural daughter of Locke.* 

* [Ideology .—This word came into use in France about the be¬ 
ginning of the present century, and became the general designation 
of philosophy in the Sensual School. One of the most distinguished 
writers of the Ideological school is the Count Destutt de Tracy , 
to whom perhaps the word owes its origin. He was the metaphy¬ 
sician of the Sensual school at the period when Cabanis may be 
considered as its physiologist, and Volney its moralist. From the 
strictness of his thinking, and the clearness of his style, Cousin 
considers him the most faithful and complete representative of his 
school. His writings are characterized by the attempt at logical 
simplicity, and by a great talent for it. He excels in abstraction 
and generalization ; he reasons with strictness from the data he 
starts from, but without much scrutiny of the grounds on which 
those data rest, or the processes by which they were furnished. His 
theory of the mind is very simple. The mind, according to him, 
is nothing but sensation, or moie properly the sensibility, of which 
sensation is the exercise. The sensibility is susceptible of different 
sorts of impression : 1, those which arise from th t present action of 

E 


38 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


Here, then, you perceive the study of the human under¬ 
standing reduced to the study of ideas; now this study 
embraces several orders of researches which it is important 
definitely to determine. According to what has been said, 
ideas may be considered under two points of view: we 
may inquire if, in relation to their respective objects, they 
are true or false; or, neglecting the question of their truth 
and falsity, their legitimate or illegitimate application to 
their objects, we may investigate solely what they are in 
themselves as they are manifested by consciousness. Such 
are the two most general questions which may be proposed 
respecting ideas. The order in which they are to be treated 
cannot be doubtful. It is obvious enough, that to begin 
by considering ideas in relation to their objects, without 
having ascertained what they are in themselves, is to begin 
at the end ; it is to begin by investigating the legitimacy 
of results, while remaining in ignorance of their principles. 
iThe correct procedure, then, is to begin by the investigation 

objects upon its organs ; 2, those which result from theirjoas/ action, 
by means of a certain disposition which that action left upon the 
organs ; 3, those of things which have relations , and may be com¬ 
pared ; 4, those which spring from our wants and lead us to satisfy 
them. Everything thus comes from the exercise of the sensibility 
through impressions made upon the organs of sense. When the 
sensibility is affected by thej?rs* sort of impression, it feels simply ; 
when by the second it repeats or recollects ; when by the third , it feels 
the relations or judges ; when by th e fourth, it desires or wills. Thus 
Sensation, according to the nature of its objects, manifests itself re-* 
spectively as pure perception, or memory, or judgment, or will. It 
is therefore the sole principle of all our faculties and of all the 
operations of the mind ; since there is none of them-which may not 
be reduced to one or the other of these forms of sensibility. 

It is obvious that Materialism is one of the consequences of this 
theory ; for without a material organization neither sensibility, 
impressions, nor any of its results which compose the phenomena 
of the mind, are conceivable. Fatalism is another systematic conse¬ 
quence ; willing is but a form of the sensibility impressed from 
without; actions are therefore necessary; and responsibility and 
moral distinctions are destroyed. The theory results also in 
Atheism, or, which comes to the same thing, in a certain form of 
Pantheism ; for, according to it, no idea can be formed of a God 
existing independently of the material universe. 

Count de Tracy was born in 1754. His Elemens d' Ideologic were 
published at Paris in 1801—1804. 2 Vols. 8vo.J— Tr. 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


39 


of ideas, not as true or false, properly or improperly appli¬ 
cable to such or such objects, and consequently as being or 
not being sufficient grounds for such or such opinion or 
knowledge, but _as simple phenomena of the understanding, 
marked by their respective characteristics. In this way, 
unquestionably, should the true method of observation pro¬ 
ceed. 

This is not all. Within these limits there is ground 
likewise for two distinct orders of investigation. 

We may investigate by internal observation, the ideas 
which are in thehuman understanding as it is now developed 
in the present state of things. The object, in this case, is 
to collect the phenomena of the understanding as they are 
given in consciousness, and to state accurately their dif¬ 
ferences and resemblances, so as to arrive at length at a 
good classification of all these phenomena, Hence the first 
maxim of the method of observation:(to omit none of the 
/ phenomena attested by consciousness.') Indeed you have 
no option; they exist, and they must for that sole reason 
be recognized. They are in reality in the consciousness ; 
and they must find a place in the frame-work of your ^ 
science, or your science is nothing but an allusion. The ) 

: second rule is : to imagine none, or to take none upon 
mere supposition.^ As you are not to deny anything which 
is; so you are not to presume anything which is not. 
You are to invent nothing and you are to suppress nothing. \ 
To omit nothing, to take nothing upon supposition; these 
are the two maxims of observation, the two essential laws 
of the experimental method applied to the phenomena of 
the understanding, as to every other order of phenomena. 
And what I say of the phenomena of the understanding, 

I say also of their characteristics; none must be omitted, 
none taken upon supposition. Thus having omitted nothing 
and taken nothing upon supposition, having embraced 
all the actual phenomena and those only, with all their 
actual characteristics and those only; you will have the 
best chance of arriving at a legitimate classification which 
will comprehend the whole reality and nothing but 'the 
reality, the statistics of the phenomena of the understanding, 
that is of ideas, complete and exact. 

E 2 


40 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


This done, you will know the understanding as it is at 
present. But has it always been what it is at present ? 
Since the day when its operations began, has it not under¬ 
gone many changes ? These phenomena, whose characters 
you have, with so much penetration and fidelity, analyzed 
and reproduced, have they always been what they are and 
what they now appear to you ? May they not have had 
at their birth certain characters which have disappeared, or 
have wanted at the outset certain characters which they 
have since acquired ? This is a point to be examined. 
Hence the important question of the origin of ideas, or the 
primitive characters of the phenomena of the understanding. 
When this second question shall be resolved; when you 
shall know what in their birth-place have been the same 
phenomena which you have studied and learned in their 
present actual form : when you shall know what they were, 
and what they have become; it will be easy for you to 
trace the route by which they have arrived from their 
primitive to their present state. You will easily trace their 
genesis, after having determined their actual present state, 
and penetrated their origin. It is then only that you will 
know perfectly what you are; for you will know both what 
you were, and what you now are, and how from what you 
were you have come to be what you are. Thus will be 
completely known to you, both in its actual and in its 
primitive state, and also in its changes, that faculty of 
knowledge, that intelligence, that reason, that spirit, that 
mind, that understanding, which is for you the foundation 
of all knowledge. 

( The question of the present state of our ideas, and that 
of their origin, are then two distinct questions, and both 
of them are necessary to constitute a complete psychology. 
In as far as psychology has not surveyed and exhausted 
these two orders of researches, it is unacquainted with the 
phenomena of the understanding; for it has not apprehen¬ 
ded them under all their aspects. It remains to see with, 
which we should commence. Shall we begin by investigat-i 
ing the actual characters of our ideas, or by investigating 
their origin P Tor as to the process of their generation 1 
and the passage from their primitive to their present state, 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


41 


ifc is clear that we can know nothing of it, till after we have 
exactly recognized and determined both the one and the 
other state. But which of these two shall we study 
first ? 

Shall we begin, for example, with the question of the 
origin of ideas ? It is without doubt a point extremely 
curious and extremely important. Man aspires to pene¬ 
trate the origin of everything, and particularly of the 
phenomena that pass within him. He cannot rest satisfied 
without having gained this. The question concerning the 
origin of ideas is undeniably in the human mind; it has 
then its place and its claim in science. It must come up 
at some time, but should it come up first ? In the first 
place it is full of obscurity. The mind is a river which 
we cannot easily ascend. Its source, like that of the Nile, 
is a mystery. How, indeed, shall we catch the fugitive 
phenomena, by which the birth and first springing up of 
thought is marked ? Is it by memory ? But you have 
forgotten what passed within you then; you did not even 
remark it. Life and thought then go on without our heed¬ 
ing the maimer in which we think and live; and the 
memory yields not up the deposite that was never entrusted 
to it. Will you consult others ? They are in the same 
perplexity with yourself. Will you make the infant mind 
your study ? But who will unfold what passes beneath 
the veil of infant thought ? The attempt to do it readily 
conducts to conjectures, to hypotheses. But is it thus you 
would begin an experimental science P It is evident, then, 
that if you start with this question concerning the origin 
of ideas, you start with precisely the most difficult question. 
Now if a sound method ought to proceed from the better 
known to the less known, from the more easy to the less 
easy, I would ask whether it ought to commence with the 
origin of ideas ? This is the first objection. Look at 
another. You begin by investigating the origin of ideas ; 
you begin then by investigating the origin of that of which 
you are ignorant, of phenomena which you have not stud¬ 
ied. What origin could you then find but a hypothetical 
origin ? And this hypothesis will be either true or false. 
Is it true ? Very well then : you have happened to divine 
E 3 


42 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


correctly; but as divination, even the divination of genius, 
is not a scientific process, so the truth itself thus discovered 
cannot claim the rank of science : it is still but hypothesis. 
Is it false ? Then instead of truth under the vicious form 
of an hypothesis, you have merely an hypothesis without 
truth. Accordingly you may see what will be the result. 
As this hypothesis, that is to say in this case this error, 
will have acquired a hold in your mind ; when you come 
in accordance with it to explain the phenomena of the intelli¬ 
gence as it is at present, if they are not what they ought to 
be in order to establish your hypothesis, you will not on 
that account give up your hypothesis. You will sacrifice 
reality to it. You will do one of two things: you will 
boldly deny all ideas which are not explicable by your hy¬ 
pothetical origin ; or you will arrange them arbitrarily and 
for the support of your hypothesis. Certainly it was not 
worth while to have made choice, with so much parade, of 
the experimental method, to falsify it afterwards by putting 
it upon a direction so perilous. Wisdom, then, good sense 
and logic demand, that omitting provisionally the question 
of the origin of ideas, we should be content first to observe 
the ideas as they now are, the characters which the phe¬ 
nomena of intelligence actually have at present in the con¬ 
sciousness. 

This done, in order to complete our investigations, in 
order to go to the extent of our capacity and of the wants 
of the human mind, and of the demands of the experimental 
problems, we may then interrogate ourselves as to what have 
been, in their origin, the ideas which we at present possess. 
Either we shall discover the truth, and experimental science, 
the science of observation and induction, will be completely 
achieved ; or we shall not discover it, and in that case no¬ 
thing will be either lost or compromised. We shall not have 
attained all possible truth, but we shall have attained a 
great part of the truth. We shall know what is, if we 
do not know what was; and we shall always be prepared 
to try again the delicate question of the origin of ideas, 
instead of having all our ulterior investigations impaired, 
and observation perverted beforehand, by the primary vice 
of our method in getting bewildered in a premature inquiry. 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


43 


The regular order then of psychological problems may 
be settled in the following manner : 

1. To investigate without any systematic prejudice, by 
observation solely, in simplicity and good faith, the pheno¬ 
mena of the understanding in their actual state as they are 
at present given in consciousness, dividing and classifying 
them according to the known laws of scientific division and 
classification. 

2. To investigate the origin of these same phenomena or 
ideas by all the means in our power, but with the firm resolu¬ 
tion not to suffer what observation has given, to be wrested 
by any hypothesis, and with our eyes constantly fixed on the 
present reality and its unquestionable characters. To this 
question of the origin of ideas is joined that of their forma¬ 
tion and genesis, which evidently depends upon and is in¬ 
volved in it. 

Such in their methodical order are the different problems 
included in psychology. The slightest inversion of this 
order is full of danger and involves the gravest mistakes. 
Indeed you can easily conceive, that if you treat the question 
of the legitimacy of the application of our ideas to their 
external objects, before learning what these ideas exactly 
are—what are their present actual characters, and what 
their primitive characters—what they are and from whence 
they spring—you must wander at hazard and without a 
torch in the unknown world of ontology. Again : you can 
conceive, that even within the limits of psychology, if you 
begin by wishing to carry by main force the question of 
the origin of ideas before knowing what these ideas are, 
and before you have recognized them by observation, you 
seek for light in the darkness which will not yield it. 

Now, how has Locke proceeded, and in what order has 
he taken up these problems of philosophy P 

Introduction, § 3. “I shall pursue,” says he, “ this 
following method : 

First , I shall inquire into the original of those ideas, 
notions, or whatever else you please to call them, which a 
man observes, and is conscious to himself he has in his 


44 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


mind; and the ways whereby the understanding comes to 
be furnished with them. 

' Secondly , I shall endeavour to show what knowledge the 
understanding hath by those ideas : and the certainty, 
evidence, and extent of it. 

v Thirdly , I shall make some inquiry into the nature and 
grounds of faith or opinion ; whereby I mean that assent 
which we give to any proposition as true, of whose truth 
yet we have no certain knowledge : and here we shall have 
occasion to examine the reasons and degrees of assent.” 

It is evident that the two latter points here indicated, 
refer collectively to one and the same question, that is the 
general question of the legitimacy or illegitimacy of the 
application of our ideas to their external objects; and the 
question is here given as the last question of philosophy. 
It is nothing less than the adjournment of the whole logi¬ 
cal and ontological inquiry until after psychology. Here 
is the fundamental characteristic of the method of Locke, 
and in this the originality of his Essay. We agree entirely 
with Locke in this respect, with this provision however, 
that the adjournment of ontology shall not be the destruc¬ 
tion of it. 

Now remains the first point, which is purely psychologi¬ 
cal and which occupies the greatest part of Locke’s work. 
He here declares that his first inquiry will be- into the ori¬ 
gin of ideas. Now here are two radical errors in point of 
method :—1 .(Locke treats of the origin of ideas before in- 
j vestigating what they are, before tracing the statistics and 
preparing the inventory of them. 2. He does still more : 
lie not only puts the question of the origin of ideas before 
that of the inventory of ideas, with their actual characters ; 
but he entirely neglects the latter question. It was al¬ 
ready running a great hazard to put the one question 
before the other; for it was seeking an hypothesis at the 
very outset, even though afterwards the hypothesis should 
be confronted with the actual reality of consciousness. Hut 
how will it be when even this possibility of return to truth 
is interdicted,| when the fundamental question, of the in- 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


45 


ventory of our ideas and their actual characters, is absolutely 
omitted ? 

Such is the first aberration of Locke. Locke recognizes 
and proclaims the experimental method; he proposes to 
apply it to the phenomena of the understanding, to ideas ; 
but not being profoundly enough acquainted with this 
method, which indeed was then in its infancy, he has not 
apprehended all the questions to which it gives rise; he 
has not disposed these questions in their true relation to 
each other; has misconceived and omitted the chief ques- ) ** 
tion, that which is eminently the experimental problem, 
namely, the observation of the actual characters of our 
ideas,.; and he has fallen at the outset upon a question which 
he ought to have postponed, the obscure and difficult ques¬ 
tion of the origin of our ideas. What then must the 
result be ? One or the other of these two things. 

1. Locke will hit upon the true origin of ideas by a 
sort of good luck and divination, which I should rejoice 
in; but however true it may really be, it could never take 
a legitimate place in science except upon this condition, 
that Locke should subsequently demonstrate that the cha¬ 
racters of our ideas are all in fact explicable and explained 
in all their extent by the origin which he supposes. 

2. (Or, Locke will deceive himself: now, if he deceives 
himself, the error will not be a particular error, confined 
to a single point, and without influence upon the rest. 

(it will be a general error, an immense error, which will 
corrupt nil psychology at its source, and thereby all meta¬ 
physics.) Lor in faithfully adhering to his hypothesis, to\ 
the origin which he had beforehand assigned to all ideas 
without knowing precisely what they were, he will necess-/ 
arily sacrifice all ideas which cannot be reduced to this 
origin; and this origin, being not only an hypothesis, but 
an error, he will sacrifice unsparingly ( for there is nothing 
more uncompromising than the spirit of systematic con¬ 
sistency ) to an error, everything which in his ulterior re¬ 
searches cannot be made to agree with it. The falsehood 
of the origin will spread out over the actual present state 
of the intelligence, and will hide even from the eyes of 
consciousness the actual characters of our ideas. Thus 


46 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


when observation shall come tardily in, if it comes at all, 
V it will beforehand have been misled by the spirit of system 
and vitiated by false data. Hence it will result that from 
application to application of this hypothesis, that is from 
error to error, the human understanding and human nature 
will be more and more misconceived, reality destroyed, 
and science perverted. 

You see the rock; it remains to learn if Locke has made 
shipwreck upon it. We do not know, for as yet we are igno¬ 
rant what he has done, whether he has been so fortunate 
as to divine correctly, or whether he has had the fate of 
most diviners, and of those who take at venture a road 
they have never measured. We suppose ourselves to be 
at present ignorant, and we shall hereafter examine. But 
here is a proper place to remark, that it is in great part from 
Locke, is derived in the eighteenth century, and in all his 
school, the habit and system of placing the question of the 
origin and genesis of ideas at the head of all philosophical 
inquiries. All the school start from this question; that 
is to say; this school which eulogizes so much the experi- 
/ mental method, is the one which corrupts it and misleads 
it at the very starting-point. It takes up the question of 
origin in respect to everything. In metaphysics, it is pre¬ 
occupied with inquiring what are the first ideas which enter 
into the mind of man. In morals, neglecting the actual 
facts of man’s moral nature, it searches for the first ideas of 
/good and evil which rise in the mind of man considered in 
the savage state, or in infancy, two states in which experience 
is not very sure, and may be very arbitrary. In politics, 
it seeks for the origin of society, of government, of laws. 
'Hn general, it takes fact as the equivalent of right; and all 
philosophy, for this school, is resolved into history, and 
history the most dim and shadowy, that of the first age of 
humanity. Hence the political theories of this school so 
opposite in their results while at the same time so identical 
in their general spirit and character. Some burying them- 
selVes in ante-historical or anti-historical conjectures, find 
as the origin of society, force and conquerors ; the first 
government which history presents to them is despotic; 
hence the idea of government is the idea of despotism ; for 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


47 


according to them it is the origin which it concerns us to 
know, it is the origin which gives to everything its true 
character. Others, on the contrary, in the convenient ob¬ 
scurities of the primitive state, perceive a contract, reciprocal 
stipulations, and titles of liberty, which subsequently were 
made to give way to despotism, and which the present times 
ought to restore. In both cases alike the legitimate state 
of human society is always drawn from its supposed prim¬ 
itive form, from that form which it is almost impossible to 
trace; and the rights of humanity are left at the mercy of 
a doubtful and perilous erudition, at the mercy of conflicting 
hypotheses. In fine, from origin to origin, they have gone 
on even to investigate and settle the true nature of human¬ 
ity, its end and all its destiny, by geological hypothesis; 
and the last expression of this tendency is the celebrated 
Telliamed of Maillet.* 

To recapitulate : most general character of the philoso¬ 
phy of Locke is independence; and here I openly range 
myself under his banner, though with the necessary 
reservations, if not side by side with the chief, at least 
side by side with his school. In respect to method, that 
of Locke is psychological, or ideological, (the name is of 
little consequence;) and here again I declare myself of his 
school. But from not sufficiently comprehending the psy¬ 
chological method, and not distinguishing the different 
spheres of inquiry in which it may be employed, I accuse 
him of having commenced by an order of investigations 
which in the eye of strict reason is not the first; I accuse 
him of having commenced by an order of inquiries which 

* [MailleVs Telliamed .—Benedict de Maillet, born in Lorraine in 
1659; French Consul in Egypt, and afterwards at Leghorn; died 
at Marseilles in the year 1738. He was an aident student of natu¬ 
ral history, and a man of afanciful turn of mind. He produced a 
system which for some time excited considerable interest. He 
maintained that all the land of the earth, and its vegetable and 
animal inhabitants rose from the bosom of the sea, by successive 
contractions of the waters; that men had originally been Tritons 
with tails; and that they, as well as other animals had lost their 
marine, and acquired terrestrial forms by their agitations when left 
upon dry ground. The work was published after the death of its 
author, by La Mascrier, who also published in 1743 a “ Description 
of Egypt, drawn up from the papers of De Maillet.”]—T r. 


48 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


necessarily puts psychology upon the road of hypothesis, 
and which more or less destroys its experimental character; 
and it is here that I withdraw myself from him.* 

Let us recollect where we are. We have seen Locke 
entering upon a hazardous route. But has he had the 
good fortune in spite of his bad choice, to arrive at the 
truth, that is to say, at the true origin of ideas ? What 
is, according to him, this origin ? This is the very basis 
of the Essay on the Human Understanding, the system 
to which Locke has attached his name. This will be the 
subject of our future discussions. 

* On all these questions respecting Method, and the order in 
which they should be treated, see in the Frogmens Philosophiques, 
the “ Essay on a Classification of Philosophical Questions and Schools ,” 
and also the “ Programme of a Course of Lectures delivered in 
1817.” 

[These two pieces will be found translated among the Additio¬ 
nal Pieces at the end of this volume.—T r.] 


CRITICAL EXAMINATION 

OF 

LOCKE’S ESSAY 

ON 

THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 


CHAPTER SECOND. 


F 




CONTENTS OF CHAPTER II. 


First Book of the Essay on the Human Understanding. Oflnnate 
Ideas.—Second Book. Experience, the source of all ideas. Sensa¬ 
tion and Reflection.—Locke places the development of the sensibility 
before that of the operations of the mind. Operations of the Mind. 
According to Locke they are exercised only upon sensible data. 
Basis of Sensualism.—Examination of the doctrine of Locke con¬ 
cerning the idea of Space.—That the idea of Space, in the sjstem 
of Locke, should and does resolve itself into the idea of Body.— 
This confusion contradicted by facts, and by Locke himself.—Dis¬ 
tinction of the actual characters of the ideas of Body v and of Space : 
1, the one contingent, the other necessary ; 2, the one limited, the 
other illimitable ; 3, the one a sensible representation, the other a 
rational conception. This distinction ruins the system of Locke. 
Examination of the origin of the idea of space. Distinction between 
the logical order and the chronological order of ideas.—Logical or¬ 
der. The idea of space is the logical condition of the idea of body, 
its foundation, its reason, its origin, taken logically.—The idea of 
body is the chronological condition of the idea of space, its origin, 
taken chronologically.—Of the Reason, and Experience, considered 
as in turn the reciprocal condition of their mutual development.— 
Merit of the system of Locke.—Its vices : 1, confounds the measure 
of space with space; 2, the condition of the idea pf space with the 
idea itself. 


CHAPTER II. 


Locke, it is true, is not the first who started the question 
concerning the origin of ideas ; but it is Locke who first 
made it the grand problem of philosophy; and since the 
time of Locke it has maintained this rank in his school. 
Eor the rest, although this question is not the first which 
in strict method should be agitated, yet certainly, taken in 
its place, it is of the highest importance. Let us see how 
Locke resolves it. 

In entering upon the investigation of the origin of ideas, 
Locke encounters an opinion, which if it be well founded, 
would cut short the question: I refer to the doctrine of 
innate ideas. In truth, if ideas are innate, that is to say, 
as the word seems to indicate, if ideas are already in the 
mind at the moment when its action begins, then it does 
not acquire them; it possesses them from the first day just 
as they will be at the last; and properly speaking, they 
have no points of progress, of generation and of origin. 
This doctrine then is opposed to the very design of Locke 
in beginning with the question of the origin of ideas. It 
is opposed also to the solution which he wished to give of 
this question, and to the system with which he was pre¬ 
occupied. It behoved him, then, first of all, to begin by 
removing this obstacle, by refuting the doctrine of innate 
ideas. Hence the polemic discussion which fills the first 
book of the Essay on the Understanding. It is my duty 
to give you some account of this controversy. 

According to Locke there are philosophers who consider 
certain principles, certain maxims and propositions, per¬ 
taining to metaphysics and morals, as innate. Now on 
what grounds can they be called innate ? Two reasons 
f 2 


52 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


may be and have been given; 1, that these propositions 
1 are universally admitted; 2, that they are primitive, that 
(they are known from the moment the reason is exercised. 

Now Locke in examining these two reasons finds, that 
even if they were sound and true in themselves, which he 
denies, they yet altogether fail to establish the doctrine of 
innate ideas. 

In metaphysics, he takes the two following propositions, 
namely : “ what is , is” and, “ it is impossible for the same 
thing to be, and not to be —and he examines whether in 
fact, all men admit these two propositions. Passing by 
civilized men who have read the philosophers, and who 
would certainly admit these propositions, he has recourse 
to uncivilized nations, to savage people, and he inquires 
whether a savage knows that “ what is, is,” and “ the same 
is the same.” He replies for the savage, that he knows 
nothing about these propositions, and cares nothing. He 
interrogates the infant, and finds that the infant is in the 
same case as the savage. Finally; supposing that savages 
and infants as well as civilized people, admit that what is, 
is, and that the same is the same ; Locke has in reserve an 
objection which he believes unanswerable, namely, thatidiots 
do not admit these propositions, and this single exception 
suffices, according to Locke, to demonstrate that they are not 
universally admitted , and consequently that they are not 
innate, for certainly the soul of the idiot is a human 
soul. 

Examining again if these propositions are primitive , if 
they are possessed at the first, and as soon as men come 
to the use of reason, Locke still takes a child for the sub¬ 
ject of his experiment, and maintains that there are a crowd 
of ideas which precede them, the ideas of colours, of bodies, 
the idea of existence; and thus the propositions in ques¬ 
tion are not the first which preside over the development 
of intelligence. 

So much for speculative propositions. It is the same 
with practical: Locke subjects moral propositions or max¬ 
ims to the same test as metaphysical. Here he relies even 
more strongly on the manners of savages, on the recitals 
of travellers, and on the observation of infants. His con- 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


53 


/ elusion is that there is no moral maxim, universally and 
\ primitively admitted, and consequently, innate. 

Such are the first two chapters of the first book of the 
Essay on the Human Understanding. The last goes still 
further. If the propositions and maxims, metaphysical and 
moral, before examined, are neither universally nor primitive¬ 
ly admitted, what must we think of the ideas which are con¬ 
tained in these propositions, and which are the elements of 
them ? Locke selects two of them, upon which he founds 
an extended discussion, namely, the idea of God, and the 
idea of substance. He has recourse to his ordinary argu¬ 
ments to prove that the idea of God, and that of substance, 
are neither universal nor primitive. Here, as in respect to 
the metaphysical propositions and the principles of morality 
and justice, he appeals to the testimony of savage nations 
who, according to him, have no idea of God; he appeals 
also to infants, to know if they have the idea of substance ; 
and he concludes that these ideas are not innate, and that 
no particular idea, nor any general proposition, speculative 
or moral, exists anterior to experience. 

As, ever since Locke, the question concerning the origin 
of ideas has become the fundamental question in the Sensual 
school, so also it is to be remarked that ever since Locke, 
v- the controversy against innate ideas has become the neces¬ 
sary introduction of this school. And not only the subject, 
but the manner of treating it, came from Locke. Ever 
since his time, the habit has prevailed of appealing to 
savages and to children, concerning whom observation is 
so difficult; for in regard to the former, it is necessary to 
recur to travellers who are often prejudiced, who are ignorant 
of the languages of the people they visit; and as to children, 
we are reduced to the observation of very equivocal signs. 
^The controversy of Locke, both in its substance and its 
form, has become the basis of every subsequent controversy 
in his school against innate ideas. 

Now what is the real value of this controversy. ? Permit 
me to adjourn this question. Eor if we should give it 
merely a general discussion, it would be insufficient, and 
if we should discuss it more profoundly, it would anticipate 
some particular discussions which the examination of the 
f 3 


54 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


Essay on the Understanding will successively bring up. 
Reserving, then, for the present, my judgment on the 
conclusions of the first book, I enter now upon the second, 
which contains the special theory of Locke, on the question 
of the origin of ideas. 

/ “ Let us then suppose,” says, Locke, (B. II. chap. I. § 
2,) “ the mind to be, as we say, white paper, void of all 
characters, without any ideas ; how comes it to be furnished ? 
Whence comes it by that vast store which the busy and 
boundless fancy of man has painted on it, with an almost 
endless variety ? Whence has it all the materials of reason 
and knowledge ? To this I answer, in one word, from 
experience ; in that all our knowledge is founded, and from 
that it ultimately derives itself.” 

Experience, then, this is the banner of Locke; it has 
become that of his whole school. Without adopting or 
rejecting it, let us accurately determine what it covers. 
Let us see what Locke understands by experience. I leave 
him to speak for himself: 

B. II. ch. I. § 2. “Our observation, employed either about 
external sensible objects, or about the*internal operations of 
our minds, perceived and reflected on by ourselves, is that 
which supplies our understandings with all the materials of 
thinking. These two are the fountains of knowledge from 
whence all the ideas we have, or can naturally have, do 
spring.” 

§ 3. “ The objects of sensation one source of ideas. 

“ First, Our senses conversant about particular sensible 
objects, do convey into the mind several distinct perceptions of 
things, according to those various ways wherein those 
objects do affect them ; and thus we come by those ideas 
we have of yellow, white, heat, cold, soft, hard, bitter, sweet, 
and all those things which we call sensible qualities ; which, 
when I say the senses convey into the mind, I mean, they 
from external objects convey into the mind what produces 
there those, perceptions. This great source of most of the 
ideas we have, depending wholly upon our senses, and 
derived by them to the understanding, I call Sensa¬ 
tion .” 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


D 0 


§ 4. “ The operations of our minds the other source of 
ideas.” 

“ Secondly, The other fountain from which experience 
furnisheth the understanding with ideas is the perception — 
of the operations of our own mind within us, as it is em¬ 
ployed about the ideas it has got; which operations, when 
the soul comes to reflect on and consider, do furnish the 
understanding with another set of ideas , which could not 
be had from tilings without; aDd such are perception, think- — 
ing, doubting, believing, reasoning, knowing, willing, and all 
the different actings of our own minds; which we, being 
conscious of, and observing in ourselves, do from these 
receive into our understandings as distinct ideas as we do 
from bodies affecting our senses. This source of ideas 
every man has wholly in himself; and though it be not 
sense, as having nothing to do with external objects, yet it 
is very like it, and might properly enough be called internal 
sense. But as I call the other Sensation, so I call this 
Reflection, the ideas it affords being such only as the mind 
gets by reflecting on its own operations within itself. By 
Reflection, then, in the following part of this discourse, I 
would be understood to mean, that notice which the mind „ 
takes of its own operations, and the manner of them ; by 
reason whereof there come to be ideas of these operations 
in the Understanding. These two, I say, namely, external 
material things, as the objects of Sensation, and the opera¬ 
tions of our minds within, as the objects of Reflection, are 
to me the only originals from whence all our ideas take 
their beginnings. The term operations, here I use in a 
large sense, as comprehending not barely the actions of the 
mind about its ideas, but some sort of passions arising 
sometimes from them; such as is the satisfaction or un¬ 
easiness arising from any thought.” 

,§ 5. “ All our ideas are of the one or the other of these .— 
The understanding seems to me not to have the least 
glimmering of any ideas, which it doth not receive from 
ene of these two. External objects furnish the mind with 
the ideas of sensible qualities, which are all those different 
perceptions they produce in us : and the mind furnishes the 
understanding with the ideas qf its oicn operations. 


56 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


“ These, when we have taken a full survey of them, and 
their several modes, combinations and relations, we shall 
find to contain all our w T hole stock of ideas; and that we 
have nothing in our minds which did not come in one of 
these two ways.” 

Thus, then, we have two sources of ideas, sensation and 
reflection. From these tw r o sources flow all the ideas which 
can enter the understanding. Such is the theory of the 
origin of ideas according to Locke. 

->At the outset, you will observe that Locke here evidently 
confounds reflection with consciousness. Reflection in 
strict language is undoubtedly a faculty analogous to 
consciousness,* but distinct from it, and pertains more 
particularly to the philosopher, while consciousness pertains 
to every man as an intellectual being. Still more, Locke 
arbitrarily reduces the sphere of reflection or consciousness 
by limiting it to the “ operations” of the soul. It is evident 
that consciousness or reflection has for its objects all the 
phenomena which pass within us, sensations and operations. 
/ Consciousness or reflection is a witness, and not an actor in 
the intellectual life. The true powers, the special sources 
of ideas, are sensations on the one hand, and the operations 
of the mind on the other, only under this general condition, 
that we have a consciousness of the one as well as the other, 
and that we can fall back upon ourselves and reflect upon 
them and their products. To these two sources of ideas, 
in strictness, the theory of Locke is reduced. 

Now which of these two sources is developed the first? 
Is it the sensibility; or is it the operations of our soul, 
which enter first into exercise ? Locke does not hesitate 
to pronounce that our first ideas are furnished by the sen¬ 
sibility ; and that those which w r e owe to reflection come 
later. He declares this in B. II. ch. I. § 8, and still 
more explicitly in § 20 : “ I see no reason to believe that 
the soul thinks before the senses have furnished it with ideas , 
to think on.” And again, § 23 : “ If it shall be demand¬ 
ed, then, when a man begins to have any ideas , I think the 
true answer is, when he first has any sensation -.” 

* See the preceding chapter. 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


57 


Thus Locke admits two distinct sources of ideas : lie does 
not confound the operations of the soul with sensations, 
but he places the development of the one before that of 
the other, the acquisitions of the senses before that of 
thought. Now we might pause here, and demand if this 
order is real ; if it is possible to conceive, not perhaps a 
sensation, but the idea of a sensation, without the interven¬ 
tion and concurrence of some of the operations of the soul, 
and those the very operations which he arbitrarily postpones. 
But without entering into this objection, let it suffice to 
state the fact that Locke does not admit the operations of 
the mind to have place until after the sensations. It re¬ 
mains to see what these operations do, and what are their 
proper functions ; upon what, and in what sphere, they are 
carried on, what is their extent, and whether, supposing 
them not to enter into exercise till after the sensibility, 
they are, or are not, condemned to act solely upon the 
primitive data furnished to them by the senses. In order 
to this, it is necessary to examine with care the nature and 
object of the operations of the mind, according to Locke. 

Locke is the first who has given an analysis, or rather 
an attempt at an analysis of the sensibility, and of the dif¬ 
ferent senses which compose it, of the ideas which we owe, 
to each of them, and to the simultaneous action of several, 
(B. II. ch. II. § 2 : ch. III. IV. and V.) He likewise is the 
first who gave the example of what subsequently in the hands 
of his successors, became the theory of the faculties of 
the mind. That of Locke, curious, and precious even for 
the times is in itself -extremely feeble, vague and confused. 
Faithful, however, to the spirit of his philosophy, Locke 
attempts to present the faculties in the order of their pro¬ 
bable development. The first of which he treats ispercep- 
tion : (B. II. ch. IX. § 2.) “ Yf hat perception is, every one 
will know better by reflecting on what he does himself, 
what he sees, hears, feels, etc., or thinks, than by any dis¬ 
course of mine. Whoever reflects on what passes in his 
one mind, cannot miss it : and if he does not reflect, all 
the words in the world cannot make him have any notion 
of it.” § 3. “This is certain, that whatever alterations are 
made in the body, if they reach not the mind; whatever 


5 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


impressions are made on the outward parts, if they are not 
taken notice of within; there is no perception.” § 4. 

“ Wherever there is sense, or perception, there is some 
idea actually produced, and present to the understanding.” 
And, § 15. “ Perception is the first degree towards know- / 
ledge.”—The perception of Locke is undeniably consci¬ 
ousness, the faculty of perceiving what actually passes 
within us. 

After perception comes retention , (chap. X. § 1.) or the 
power of retaining actual perceptions, or ideas, and of 
^contemplating them when present, or of recalling them when 
they have vanished. In this latter case, retention is mem¬ 
ory , the aids to which are attention and repetition. 

Then comes the faculty of distinguishing ideas, (ch. XI.) y 
and that of comparing them; from whence spring all the 
ideas of relation, not to omit the faculty of composition , 
from whence spring all the complex ideas which come from 
the combination of several simple ideas. And finally, at 
a later period, the faculty of abstraction and generalization 
is developed. Locke reckons no other faculties. Thus in 
the last analysis, perception, retention or contemplation 
and memory, discernment and comparison, composition, 
abstraction; these are the faculties of the human under¬ 
standing ; for the will, together with pleasure and pain, 
and the passions, which Locke gives as “ operations of the 
mind,” form another order of phenomena. 

Now what is the character and what is the office of these 
^ faculties ? About what, for example, is perception exer¬ 
cised ; to what is it applied ? To sensation. And what 
does it ? It does nothing but perceive the sensation, 

^ nothing but have a consciousness of it. Add, according 
to Locke, (ch. IX. § 1.) that the perception is passive 
forced, inevitable, it is still nothing but the effect, of sensa¬ 
tion. The first faculty of the mind, then, adds nothing to the 
sensation; it merely takes knowledge of it.) In retention, con¬ 
templation continues this perception when faded, the memory, ^ 
recalls it. Discernment separates composition re-unites these 
perceptions; abstraction seizes their most general characters: 

^ but still, the materials are always, in the last analysis, 
ideas of sensation rendered up to perception. Our facul- 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


59 


ties connect themselves to these ideas, and draw from them ; 
everything contained in them ; but they do not go beyond 
them, they add nothing to the knowledge which they draw 
from them, but that of their existence and of their action. 

Thus, on the one hand, sensation precedes ; on the 
other, the understanding is, for Locke, only an instrument, 
whose whole power is exhausted upon sensation. Locke, 
to be sure, has not confounded sensation and the faculties 
of the mind ; he lias most explicitly distinguished them ; 
but he makes our faculties sustain a secondary and insig¬ 
nificant part, and concentrates their action upon the data 
of the senses. From this, to the point of confounding 
them with the sensibility itself, it is but a step, and here 
is the germ, as yet feeble, of that subsequent theory of 
sensation transformed , of sensation as the sole and single 
principle of all operations of the mind.* It is Locke who 
without knowing it, or wishing it, has opened the route to 
this exclusive doctrine, by adding to sensation only facul¬ 
ties whose sole office is to operate upon it without any pro¬ 
per and original power of their own. The Sensual school,, 
properly speaking, is not completely formed till it has 
arrived at that point. In the meantime, while waiting till 
we are called to examine the labours of those by whom the 
system of Locke was urged onward to this point, let us 
take up this system at what it now is, or rather at what 
it holds out itself to be, namely, the pretension of explain- 
' ing all the ideas that are or can be in the human under¬ 
standing, by sensation, and by reflection, or the feeling of. 
our own operations. 

“ If we trace the progress of our minds,” says Locke, 
(ch. XII. § 8.) “and with attention observe how it repeats, 
adds together, and unites its simple ideas received from 
sensation or reflection, it will lead us further than at first 
perhaps we should have imagined. And I believe we 
shall find, if we warily observe the originals of our notions, 
that even the most abstruse ideas, how remote soever they 
may seem from sense, or from any operations of our own 
minds, are yet only such as the understanding frames to it- 

* As maintained by Condillac and other successors of Locke, 
of the French Sensual School.—[Tit.] 


60 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


self by repeating and joining together ideas, that it had, 
either from objects of sense, or from its own operations 
about them : so that those even large and abstract ideas 
are derived from sensation or reflection , being no other 
than what the mind, by the ordinary use of its own facul¬ 
ties, employed about ideas received from objects of sense, 
or from the operations it observes in itself about them, 
may and does attain unto. This I shall endeavour to show 
in the ideas we have of space , time , and infinity , and some 
few others, that seem the most remote from those origi¬ 
nals.” 

All in good time. This has a little the air of a chal¬ 
lenge. Let us accept it, and let us see, for example, how 
j Locke will deduce the idea of space from sensation and 
from reflection. 

I am a little embarrassed, in attempting to expound to 
you the opinion of Locke concerning space, and I have 
need here to recall to your minds an observation I have 
already made. Locke is the chief of a school. We are 
not to expect, then, that Locke has drawn from his prin¬ 
ciples all the consequences which these principles contain; 
nor even are we to expect that the inventor of a principle 
should establish it with the most perfect clearness and 
i precision. This remark, which is true of the whole Essay 
on the Human Understanding, is particularly true of the 
chapters where Locke treats of the idea of space. There 
reigns, under a clearness sometimes real, but oftener ex¬ 
terior and superficial, j an extreme confusion j—and con¬ 
tradictions direct and express, are to be met with not only 
in different chapters, but even in different paragraphs of 
the same chapter. Unquestionably it is the duty of the 
critical historian to relieve these contradictions, in order to 
characterize the era and the man; but history is not merely 
a monography; it is not concerned solely with an in¬ 
dividual, however great he may be ; it investigates par¬ 
ticularly the order and progress of events, that is to say, in 
respect to the history of philosophy, of systems. It is the 
germ of the future which it seeks in the past. I shall 
attach myself, then, after having pointed out once for all, 
the innumerable inconsistencies of Locke, to the task of 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


61 


disengaging from the midst of these barren inconsistencies 
whatever there is that is fruitful—whatever has borne his 
fruits—that which constitutes a system, and the true sys-) 
tern of Locke. This system, you know, consists in deducing 
all ideas from two sources, sensation and reflection. The 
idea of space, then, being given, it must necessarily be 
traced to one or the other of these two origins. The idea of 
space is certainly not acquired by reflection, by conscious¬ 
ness of the operations of the understanding. It remains, 
then, that it must come from sensation. According to 
Locke it is derived from sensation. Here you have his 
systematic principle. We shall allow Locke to start from 
this principle, and systematically deduce the idea of space 
from it. But Locke does not set up to reform the human ^ 
understanding; his office is to explain it. He is to show 
the origin of that which is, not of that which might be or 
ought to be. 

The problem, then, for him, as for every other philo¬ 
sopher, is this; the principle of his system being given, to 
deduce from it that which now is, the idea of space, such 
as it is in the minds of all men. We shall therefore allow 
him to proceed according to his system; —then we shall 
take from the hands of this system, the idea of space as 
given by it, and we shall confront it with the idea of space 
as we have it, such as all men have it, independently of any 
system whatever. 

According to Locke, the idea of space comes from sensa-. 
tion. Now from what sense is it derived ? It is not from 
the sense of smelling, nor taste, nor of hearing. It must 
then be from sight and touch. So Locke says B. II. ch. 
XIII. § 2. “ We get the idea of space both by our sight 
and touch, which I think is so evident, ” etc. If the idea 
of space is an acquisition of the sight and touch, in order 
to know what it should be under this condition, we must 
recur to previous chapters, where Locke treats of the ideas 
we gain by the sight, and especially by the touch. Let 
us see what the touch can give according to Locke, and 
according to all the world. The touch, aided or not aided 
by sight, suggests the idea of something which resists;— 
pnd to resist is to be solid. “ The idea of solidity, says 
G 



62 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


Locke, (ch. IV, § 1. )we receive by our touch, and it 

arises from the resistance which we find-. ” And what 

are the qualities of a solid, of that something which re¬ 
sists? Greater or less degree of solidity. The greater 
solidity is hardness ; less is softness; from hence, also, per¬ 
haps, figure with its dimensions. Take, then, your solid, 
your something which resists, with its different qualities, 
and you have everything which the touch, whether aided or 
not aided by sight can give you. This something which 
resists, which is solid, which is more or less so, which has 
such or such a figure, the three dimensions, is in a single 
word, body./ 

The touch, then, with the sight, does it suffice to give us 
that which resists, the solid with its qualities, body ? I do 
not wish to examine any further. Analysis would perhaps 
force me to admit here a necessary intervention of some¬ 
thing, altogether different, besides the sense of touch. But 
I now choose rather to suppose that, in reality, the touch, 
sensation, gives the idea of body, such as I have just deter¬ 
mined it. ' 'That sensation may go thus far, I am willing to 
grant; that it goes further, I deny, and Locke does not 
pretend. In that exact, ingenious, and unassailable chapter, 
in which, almost without anything of the spirit of system, 
he investigates the products of sight and touch, Locked 
deduces nothing from them but the idea of solid, that is to 
say, of body. If afterwards, and in the spirit of his system, 
he pretends, as we have seen he does, that the idea of space, 
is given to us by sensation, that is, by the sight and touch, 
it follows that he reduces the idea of space to that of body 
and that, for him, space can be nothing else but body itself, 
—body enlarged, indefinitely multiplied, the world, the 
universe, and not only the actual, but the possible universe. 
In fact, (ch. XIII. § 10,) Locke says: ** the idea oi place, 
we have by the same means that we get the idea of space, 

( whereof this is but a particular and limited consideration ) 

namely, by our sight and touch-.” Same chapter, 

same section : “ to say that the world is somewhere, means 
no more than that it does exist —— —r-.” It is clear, that is 
to say, that the space of the universe is equivalent to neither 
more nor less than to the universe itself, and as the idea oi 





ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


63 


the universe is, after all, nothing but the idea of body, it 
is to this idea, that the idea of space is reduced. Such is 
the necessary genesis of the idea of space in the system of 
Locke. 

There are, it is true, in these chapters, many contradictory, 
paragraphs, and the contradictions are sometimes of the 
most gross and obvious kind; but it is no less true, that 
the system of Locke being given, that is to say here, sen¬ 
sation being given as the sole principle of the idea of space , 
the result which necessarily follows, is the idea of space 
just such as Locke has made it. Look once more at the 
principle: the idea of space is given by the sight and 
toueh; and then see the result: to inquire if the world 
exists somewhere, is to inquire if the world exists. Upon 
the road, it is true, Locke does not march with a very firm 
step j'Tie makes more than one false step ; he arrives, how¬ 
ever, at the result which I have stated, and which his 
system imposed upon him. Now is this result the reality ? ** 
The idea of space, the offspring of sensation, the systematic 
daughter of touch and of sight, is it the idea of space such 
as it exists in your minds, and in the minds of all men 
Let us see, if at present, such as we are, we confound the y 
idea of body and the idea of space—if they are to us but 
one and the same idea. 

But in bringing ourselves to the test of such an experi¬ 
ment, let us beware of two things which corrupt every 
experiment. Let us beware of having in view any 
particular systematic conclusion; and let us beware of 
thinking of any origin whatever: for, the pre-occupation 
of the mind by such or such an origin, would unconsciously, 
even to ourselves, engage us in a false course, and make 
us attribute to ideas whose actual and present character it 
is our duty to observe, some specific character, too much in 
reference to the origin which we internally prefer. We will 
investigate afterwards the systematic conclusions which 
may be drawn from the experiment we wish to institute ; 
hereafter we will also follow up the origin of the idea. But 
our present object and our only object, is to state, without 
any prejudice and without any foreign view, what this idea 
actually is. 

G 2 


64 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


Is the idea of space, then, reducible in the understanding 
to the idea of body ? This is the question. And it is a 
question of fact. Let us take whatever body you please: 
take this book which is before our eyes and in our hands. 
It resists, it is solid, it is more or less hard, it has a cer¬ 
tain figure, etc. Do you think of nothing more in regard 
to it P Do you not believe, for instance, that this body 
is somewhere, in a certain place? Be not surprised at 
the simplicity of my question; we must not be afraid of 
recalling philosophers to the simplest questions ; for pre¬ 
cisely because they are the simplest, philosophers often 
neglect them, and systematize before they have interrogated 
the most evident facts, which being omitted or falsified 
precipitate them into absurd systems. 

Is this body then anywhere ? is it in some place ? Yes 
undoubtedly, all men will reply. Very well, then, let us 
take a larger body, let us take the world. Is the world 
somewhere also, is it in some place? Nobody doubts 
it. Let us take thousands, and ten thousands of worlds, 
and can we not, concerning these ten thousands of worlds, 
put the same question which I have just put concerning 
this book ? Are they somewhere,—are they in some 
place,—are they in space? We may ask the question 
concerning a world and millions of worlds, as well 
as the book ; and to all these questions, you reply 
equally : the book, the world, the million of worlds, are 
somewhere, are in some place, are in space. There is not 
a human being, unless it may be a philosopher pre-occupied 
with his system, who can for a monent doubt what I have 
just said. Take the savage, to whom Locke appeals, take 
the child, and the idiot also, if he be not entirely one, take 
any human being who has an idea of any body whatever, a 
book, a world, a million of worlds; and he will believe, 
naturally, without being able to give an account of it, that 
the book, the world, the million of worlds, are somewhere, 
are in some place, are in space. And what is it to acknow¬ 
ledge this ? It is to recognize, more or less implicitly, 
that the idea of a book, a world, a million of worlds, solid, 
resisting, situated in space, is one thing ) and that the idea 
of space, in which the book, the world, the million of 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


65 


worlds, are situated, is another thing. The idea of space, 
then, is one thing, and the idea of body is another thing. ^ 

This is so evident that Locke himself, when not under 
the yoke of his system, distinguishes perfectly the idea of 
body from that of space, and establishes the difference very 
clearly. Thus, for instance, B. II. chap. XIII. § 11 : 

“ There are some that would persuade us that body and 
extension are the same thing : who either change the signifi¬ 
cation of words, which I would not suspect them of, they 
having so severely condemned the philosophy of others 
because it hath been too much placed in the uncertain 
meaning, or deceitful obscurity of doubtful or insignificant 
terms. If therefore they mean by body and extension the 
same that other people do, viz. by body , something that is- 
solid and extended, whose parts ate separable and moveable 
different ways ; and by extension, only the space that lies 
between the extremities of those solid coherent parts, and 
which is possessed by them : they confound very different 
ideas one with another. For I appeal to every man’s own 
thoughts, whether the idea of space be not as distinct from 
that of solidity, as it is from the idea of scarlet colour ? It 
is true, solidity cannot exist without extension, neither can 
scarlet colour exist without extension; but this hinders not, 
but that they are distinct ideas.” 

Various considerations are then added which develop at 
length the difference of body and space ; considerations 
which occupy more than ten sections, and to which I must 
refer you, lest I multiply citations too much. 

Thus, according to Locke himself, the idea of space, and 
the idea of body are totally distinct. To establish this dis¬ 
tinction, and place it in a clearer light, let us now notice 
the different characters which those two ideas present. 

You have an idea of a body. You believe that it exists. 
But is it possible to suppose, and could you suppose, that 
such a body did not exist ? I would ask you, can you not 
suppose this book to be destroyed P Undoubtedly. Can 
you not also suppose the whole world to be destroyed, and 
no body to be actually existing ? Unquestionably you can. 

Tor you, constituted as you are, the supposition of the 
G 3 


66 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


non-existence of bodies involves no contradiction. And 
what do we term the idea of a thing which we conceive as 
possibly non-existent? It is termed a contingent and re¬ 
lative idea. But if you should suppose the book destroy¬ 
ed, the world destroyed, all matter destroyed, could you 
suppose space destroyed ? Can you suppose that if there 
were no body existent, there would then no longer remain 
any space for the bodies which might come into ex¬ 
istence? (You are not able to make the supposition. 
Though it is in the power of the human mind to suppose 
the non-existence of body, it is not in its power to suppose 
the non-existence of space. The idea of space is then neces¬ 
sary and absolute. You have, then, two characteristics per¬ 
fectly distinct, by which the ideas of body and of space are 
separated. 

Moreover, every body is evidently limited. You embrace 
its limits in every part. Magnify, extend, multiply the body 
by millions of similar bodies, you have removed, enlarged 
the limits of the body, but you have not destroyed its limits ; 
you conceive them still. But in regard to space, it is not 
so. The idea of space is given to you as a continuous 
whole, in which you can very readily form useful and con¬ 
venient divisions, but at the same time artificial divisions, 
under which subsists the idea of space without limit. Bor, 
beyond any determinate portion of space, there is space 
still; and beyond that space, there is still space forever 
and forevermore. ( Thus while body has necessarily in all 
its dimensions something else which bounds it, namely the 
space which contains it; there are, on the contrary, no 
limits to space.} 

The idea of body, moreover, is not complete without the 
idea of form and figure, which implies that you can always 
represent it under a determinate form : it is always an 
image. Far otherwise with space, which is conception , and 
not an image; and as soon as you conceive of space by 
imagining it, as soon, that is, as you represent it under 
any determinate form whatever, it is no longer space of 
which you form a conception, but something in space, a 
body. The idea of space is a conception of the reason 
distinct from all sensible representation. 


ELEMENTS OP PSYCHOLOGY. 67 

I might pursue this opposition of the ideas of body and 
of space. But it is sufficient to have stated these three 
fundamental characteristics: 1. The idea of body is con¬ 
tingent and relative, while the idea of space is necessary 
and absolute; 2. The idea of body implies the idea of 
limitation; the idea of space implies the absence of all 
limitation; 3. And lastly, the idea of body is a sensible 
representation, while the idea of space is a pure and wholly 
rational conception. 

If these characteristics are incontestibly those of the idea 
of space, and of the idea of body, it follows that these two 
/ ideas are profoundly distinct, and that no philosophy which 
pretends to rest on the" observation of the phenomena ol’ 
the understanding should ever confound them. Never¬ 
theless, the systematic result of Locke is precisely the 
confusion of the idea of space with that of body; and this 
result necessarily follows from the very principle of Locke. ^ 
’■ In fact, the idea of space—condemned beforehand by the 
system to come from sensation, and not being deducible 
from the smell, the hearing, or the taste—was behoved to 
be derived from sight and touch ; and coming from sight 
and touch, it could be nothing else than the idea of body, 
more or less generalized. Now it has been demonstrated 
that the idea of space is not that of body; it does not, 
then, come from sight and touch ; it does not, then, come 
from sensation; and as it can still less be deduced from 
reflection, from the sentiment of our own operations; and 
as it nevertheless exists ; it follows that all ideas are not 
derived from sensation and reflection, and the system of 
Locke concerning the origin of ideas is defective and 
vicious, at least in regard to the idea of space. 

But what! does this vaunted system contain nothing 
but manifest and destructive contradictions to facts admit¬ 
ted by all men? In order the better to penetrate the 
system of Locke, and bring out whatever is sound in it, 
as we have just recognised wherein it is vicious, we must 
ourselves take stand upon the ground of Locke, and 
investigate the question which is, with him, the great 
philosophical problem. After having determined the 
characteristics of the idea of space and of the idea of body, 


68 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


as they now actually exist in the intelligence of all men, 
and shown that these characteristics establish a profound 
difference between these two ideas ;—*-we must now inquire 
what their origin really is ; we must investigate the origin 
of the idea of space relatively to the idea of body. Every¬ 
thing thus far, I trust, is simple and clear; for we have 
not set foot out of the human intelligence as it now 
manifests itself. Let us advance onward ; but let us 
endeavour that the light which we have already gained 
from impartial observation be not quenched in the darkness 
of an hypothesis. 

There are two sorts of origin. There are in the assem¬ 
blage of human cognitions, two orders of relations which 
it is important clearly to distinguish. 

Two ideas being given, we may inquire whether the one 
does not suppose the other; whether the one being 
admitted, we must not admit the other likewise, or be 
guilty of a paralogism. This is the logical order of 
ideas. 

If we regard the question of the origin of ideas under 
this point of view, let us see what result it will give in 
respect to the particular inquiry before us. 

The idea of body and the idea of space being given, 
which supposes the other ? Which is the logical condition 
of the admission of the others? Evidently the idea of 
space is the logical condition of the admission of the idea 
of body. In fact, take any body you please, and you cannot 
admit the idea of it but under the condition of admitting, 
at the same time, the idea of space; otherwise you would 
admit a body which was now here, which was in no place, 
and such a body is inconceivable. Take an aggregate of 
bodies; or take a single body, since every body is also an 
aggregate of particles;—these particles are more or less 
distant from each other, and at the same time they co-exist 
together : these are the conditions of every body, even the 
smallest. But do you not perceive what is the condition 
of the idea of co-existence and of distance? Evidently 
the idea of space. For how could there be distance 
between bodies or the particles of a body, without space, and 
what possible co-existence is there, except in a continuous 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


69 


whole? It is the same with contiguity. Destroy, in thought, ^ 
continuity of space, and distance is no longer appreciable ; 
neither co-existenee nor contiguity are possible. Moreover, 
continuity is extension. We are not to believe (and Locke 
has very clearly established it, B. II. ch. XIII. §11,) that 
the idea of extension is adequate to the idea of body. The 
fundamental attribute of body is resistance; from hence 
solidity; but solidity does not imply in itself that this 
solidity is extended.* There is no extension but under 
the condition of a continuity, that is, of space. The exten¬ 
sion of a body, then, already supposes space; space is not 
the body or resistance; but that which resists does not 
resist except upon some real point. Now every real point 
is extended, is in space. Take away, therefore, the idea 
of space and of extension, and no real body is supposable. 
Therefore as the last conclusion, in the logical order of 
human knowledge, the idea of body is not the logical 
condition of the admission of the idea of space ; but on the 
contrary, it is the idea of space, of continuity, of extension, 
which is the logical condition of the admission of the slight¬ 
est idea of body. 

* Unquestionably, then, when we regard the question of 
the origin of ideas under the logical point of view, this so¬ 
lution, which is incontestible, overwhelms the system of ■ 

> Locke. Now it is at this point that the Ideal school has h 
in general taken up the question of the origin of ideas, 
By the origin of ideas, they commonly understand the 
logical filiation of ideas. Hence they have said, with their 
last and most illustrious interpreter, that so far is the idea 
of body from being the foundation (Kant should have added, 
the logical foundation) of the idea of space, that it is the 
idea of space which is the foundation [the logical condition] 
of the idea of body. The idea of body is given to us by 
the touch and the sight, that is, by experience of the 
senses. On the contrary, the idea of spaoe is given to us, 
on occasion of the idea of body, by the understanding, the 
mind, the reason ; in fine, by a faculty other than sensation. 
Hence the Kantian formula; the pure rational idea of space 

* On this important point see the Essay of Dugald Stewart, on 
the Idealism of Berkley in his Phil, Essays. 


70 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


comes so little from experience, that it is the condition of 
all experience. This bold formula is incontestiblv true in 
all its strictness, when taken in a certain reference, in 
reference to the logical order of human cognitions. 

^ But this is not the sole order of cognition ; and the logical 
relation does not comprise all the relations, which ideas 
mutually sustain. There is still another, that of anterior, 
or posterior, the order of the relative development of ideas 
> in time—their chronological order. And the question of 
the origin of ideas may be regarded under this point of 
view. Now the idea of space, we have just seen, is clearly 
the logical condition of all sensible experience. Is it also 
the chronological condition of all experience, and of the 
idea of body ? I believe no such thing. If we take ideas 
in the order in which they actually evolve themselves in 
the intelligence, if we investigate only their history and 
successive appearance, it is not true that the idea of space 
is antecedent to the idea of body. Indeed it is so little 
true, that the idea of space chronologically supposes the 
idea of body, that, in fact if you had not the idea of body, 
you would never have the idea of space. Take away 
sensation, take away the sight and touch, and you have 
no longer any idea of body, and consequently none of space. 
Space is the place of bodies ; he who has no idea of a body, 
will never have the idea of space, which contains it. Ratio¬ 
nally, logically, if you had not the idea of space, you could 
not have the idea of a body;(but the converse is true 
chronologically, and in fact, the idea of space comes up 
only along with the idea of body : and as you have not the 
idea of body without immediately having the idea of space, 
it follows that these two ideas are contemporaneous.) I 
will go further. Not only may we say that the idea of 
body is contemporaneous with the idea of space, but we 
may say, and ought to say, that it is anterior to it. In 
fact the idea of space is contemporaneous with the idea of 
body in this sense, that as soon as the idea of body is given 
you, you cannot but have that of space; but in fine, it was 
necessary that you should have had at first that of a body, 
in order that—upon the idea of a body being given you— 
the idea of space which contains it, should appear [or be 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


71 


evolved in your consciousness.] It is then by [occasion of] 
the idea of body, that you go to that of space. Take away 
the idea of body, and you would never have the idea of 
space which encloses it. The former, then, may be called 
the historical and chronological condition of the other. 

Undoubtedly, and I cannot repeat it too much, for it is 
the knot of the difficulty, the secret of the problem, un- *■"' 
doubtedly as soon as the idea of body is given, that instant 
the idea of space is evolved; but if this condition be not 
fulfilled, the idea of space would never enter the human 
understanding. When it is awakened, there it remains 
fixed, independently of the idea of body which introduced 
it there, [occasioned its evolution;] for we may suppose 
space without body, although we cannot suppose body 
wdthout space. It is not possible for the reason, in its 
state of development, to comprehend the idea of body, un¬ 
less previously it has formed the idea of space; but for¬ 
merly, in the cradle of the human intelligence, if the idea of 
body had not been given, never would the idea of space 
have been evolved in the understanding. The former was 
the chronological condition of the latter, as the latter is 
the logical condition of the former.* These two orders 
are completely reciprocal, and, so to say, in a certain sense 
all the world are right, and all the world are wrong. Logi¬ 
cally , Idealism and Kant are right, in maintaining that 
the pure idea of space is the condition of the idea of body, 
and of experience; and chronologically , Empiricism and 
Locke are right in their turn, in holding up experience, 
that is, on this point, sensation, the sensation of sight and 
touch, as the condition of the idea of space, and of the 
development of the reason. 

In general, Idealism more or less neglects the question 
of the origin of ideas, and scarcely regards them but in 
their actual character, Taking its position, at the outset, 
amidst the facts of the understanding as at present de¬ 
veloped, it does not investigate their successive acquisition 
and historical development. ; it does not investigate the 

» Frogmens Phi/osophiques, p. 228, “ Programme of a Course of 
Lectures delivered in 1817. [See Additional Pieces. — Te.] 


72 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


chronological order of ideas. It confines itself to their logi * 
cal validity; it starts from reason, not from experience. 
Locke, on the contrary, pre-occupied with the question of 
the origin of ideas, neglects their actual characters, con¬ 
founds their chronological condition with their logical 
ground, and the power of reason with that of experience, 
which indeed precedes and guides the former, but which 
does not constitute it. Experience, when put in its just 
place, is seen to be the condition, but not the ground of 
knowledge. 

o • 

Does it go further, and pretend to constitute all know¬ 
ledge ? It then becomes nothing but a system, a system 
incomplete, exclusive and vicious. It becomes Empiricism 
where it is opposed to Idealism, which latter is, in its turn, 
the exaggeration of the proper power of Reason, the usur¬ 
pation of Reason over Experience, the destruction, or the 
forgetfulness of the chronological and experimental con¬ 
dition of knowledge, and which arises from its exclusive 
pre-occupation with its logical and rational principles. 
v Now it is Locke who has introduced and accredited Empi¬ 
ricism in the Philosophy of the eighteenth century. 

Locke very clearly saw that we could have no idea of 
space, if we had not some idea of body. That it is not 
body, however, which constitutes space, I have proved; it 
is body which fills space. If it is body which fills space, 
it is body which measures it. If it is body which fills and 
measures space, it follows that if space is not body, we 
never know anything concerning space, except what body 
teaches us. Locke saw this: that is his merit. His fault 
is, 1, in having confounded that which fills and measures 
space and reveals it to us, with the proper idea of space 
itself; 2, and this second fault is far more general and 
comprehensive than the first, in having confounded the 
chronological condition of ideas with their logical condition, 
the experimental data, external or internal, upon condition 
of which the understanding conceives certain ideas with 
the ideas themselves. 

This is the most general critical point of view which is 
to be taken of all the metaphysics of Locke. I have drawn 
it from the examination I have just made of his theory of 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


73 


the idea of space. It may be applied, and I shall apply 
it in the succeeding discussions, to his theory of the idea 
of the infinite, of time, and of other ideas, which Locke 
has made boast of, as you know, of reducing easily from 
experience, from sensation or from reflection. 


H 



■ 









CRITICAL EXAMINATION 


OF 

LOCKE’S ESSAY 

ON 

THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 

CHAPTER THIRD. 


II 




CONTENTS OF CHAPTER III. 


Recapitulation of the preceding chapter.—Continuation of the 
examination of the second book of the Essay on the Human Under¬ 
standing. Of the idea of Time.—Of the idea of the Infinite.—Of 
the idea of Personal Identity.—Of the idea of Substance. 


CHAPTER HI. 

I shall begin at this time, by placing before you the 
results at which we arrived in the last lecture. The question 
was concerning Space. 

A sound philosophy unquestionably ought not to suppress 
and destroy the ontological questions concerning the nature 
of space considered in itself; whether it is material, or 
spiritual,—whether it is a substance, or an attribute,— 
whether it is independent of God, or is to be referred to 
God himself. For all these questions are undeniably in 
the human mind. But they should be postponed until 
psychological observations, correctly made and skilfully 
combined, shall put us in a condition to resolve them. Our 
first occupation, then, is with the purely psychological 
question concerning the idea of space. 

If we interrogate the human understanding, as it is 
developed in all men, we shall recognize the idea of space 
with these three characteristics, noticeable among several 
others : 1. Space is given us as necessary, while body is 
given as that which may or may not exist; 2. Space is 
given us as without limits, while body is given as limited 
on every side; 3. The idea of space is altogether rational, 
while that of body is accompanied by a sensible representa¬ 
tion. 

The preliminary question, concerning the actual charac¬ 
teristics of the idea of space, being thus resolved, we may, 
without danger, advance to the far more difficult question 
concerning the origin of the idea. Now here we have 
carefully distinguished two points of view, which are 
intimately blended together, but which analysis should 
ii 3 


78 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


separate, namely, the logical order of ideas, and their 
chronological order. In the logical view, body pre-supposes 
space; for what is body ? The juxta-position, the co¬ 
existence of resisting points, that is, of solids. But how 
could this juxta-position, this co-existence, happen but in 
a continuity, in space ? But while, in the order of reason 
and of nature, body pre-supposes space; it is true, on the 
other hand, that in the chronological order, there is a 
contemporaneousness of the idea of body and that of space ; 
we cannot have the idea of body without that of space, 
nor of space without that of body. And if, in this con¬ 
temporaneous process, one of these ideas may be distin¬ 
guished as the antecedent, in the- order of time, of the 
other, it is not the idea of space which is anterior to that 
of body : it is the idea of body which is anterior to that of 
space. It is not from the idea of space that we start; and 
if the sensibility, if the touch, did not take the initiative, 
and give us, immediately, the idea of resistance, of solid, 
of body, we should never have the idea of space. This 
initiative, taken by the touch, marks the idea of solid, of 
body, with the character of an antecedent, relatively to that 
of space. Without doubt the idea of body could never -be 
formed and completed in the mind, if we had not already 
there the idea of space; but still, the former idea springs 
up first in time; it precedes in some degree the idea of 
space, which [is awakened along with it and] immediately 
follows it. 

Here then are the two orders perfectly distinct, and even 
opposed to each other. In the order of nature and of rea¬ 
son, body pre-supposes space. In the order of the acquisition 
of knowledge, on the contrary, it is the confused and obscure 
idea of solid, of body, which is the condition of the idea of 
space. Now the idea of body is acquired in the perception 
of touch, aided by the sight; it is, then, an acquisition of 
experience. It is, then, correct to say, that, in the chrono¬ 
logical order of knowledge, experience and a certain 
development of the senses, are the condition of the acquisi¬ 
tion of the idea of space ; and at the same time, as body 
pre-supposes space, and as the idea of space is given us 
by the reason, and not by the senses or experience, it is 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 79 

true alto that, logically, the idea of space and a certain 
exertion of the reason, are pre-supposed in experience. 

At this point of view, the true character, the merit and 
the defects, of the system of Locke, are discovered. What 
has Locke done ? Instead of being contented to postpone, 
he has, I apprehend, destroyed the ontological questions 
concerning the nature of space. True, indeed, he always 
has the sagacity to occupy himself, first of all, with the 
psychological question concerning the idea of space. But 
he ought to have tarried much longer in the inquiry into the 
actual characteristics of this idea; and it was a great fault 
in him, to throw himself at the outset upon the question of 
its origin. Now his general system of the origin of ideas 
being that all our ideas are derived from two sources, re¬ 
flection, that is consciousness, and sensation; and as the 
idea of space could not come from consciousness, it clearly 
behoved to come from sensation; and in order to deduce 
the idea of space from sensation, it was necessary to resolve 
it into the idea of body. This, Locke has done in the 
systematic parts of his work, though at the same time con¬ 
tradicting himself more than once; for sometimes he speaks 
of space as altogether distinct from solidity. But when 
his system comes up, when he puts upon himself the neces¬ 
sity of deducing the idea of space from sensation, then he 
affirms that the idea of space is acquired by [not merely occa¬ 
sioned by the exercise ofj the sight and by the touch. Now 
the touch, aided by the sight, gives us only body, and not 
space ; and by this process alone, Locke, implicitly, reduces 
+ space to body. He does the same thing, explicitly, when 
he says that to ask if the world exists in any place, is 
simply to ask if the world exists. This identifying the exis¬ 
tence of space with the existence of body [for it is not merely 
saying that the existence of the one involves the idea of the 
existence of the other, which would be allowing two distinct 
ideas,] is [if Locke meant anything and understood himself, 
nothing less than] to identify the idea of space with that of 
body. This identity was necessary to render his system 
strict, at least in appearance. But the universal belief of " 
the human race declares that body is one thing, and space, 
which encloses it, another thing; the world and all possible 


80 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


worlds, one thing; the infinite and illimitable space which 
would enclose them, another thing. Bodies measure space, 
but do not constitute it. The idea of body is indeed in time 
the antecedent [and occasion] of the idea of space; but 
it is not the idea itself. 

So much for the idea of space. Let us now proceed 
further to interrogate the second book of the Essay on the 
Human Understanding, concerning the most important 
ideas ; and we shall see that Locke constantly confounds 
the order of the acquisition of knowledge with the logical 
order, the necessary antecedent of an idea with the idea 
itself. I propose now to examine the system of Locke in 
relation to the idea of time, the idea of the infinite, of 
personal identity, and of substance. I begin with Locke, 
with the idea of time. 

Here the first rule, you know, is to neglect the question 
concerning the nature of time, and to inquire solely what 
is the idea of time in the human understanding ; whether 
it is there, and with what characteristics it is there. It is 
there. There is no one, who, as soon as he has before his 
eyes, or represents to his imagination, any event whatever, 
does not conceive that it has passed, or is passing, in a 
certain time. I ask whether it is possible to suppose an 
event, which you are not compelled to conceive as taking- 
place some hour, some day, some week, some year, some 
century ? There is not an event, real or possible, which 
escapes the necessity of this conception of a time in- which 
it must have taken place. You can even suppose the 
abolition, the non-existence of every event; but you can¬ 
not suppose this of time. Standing before a time-piece, 
you may very easily make the supposition, that from one 
hour to another, no event has taken place; you are how¬ 
ever none the less convinced that time has passed away, 
even when no event has marked its course. The idea of 
time, then, like the idea of space, is marked with the cha¬ 
racteristic of necessity. I add, that, like space, it is also illi¬ 
mitable. The divisions of time, like those of space, are purely 
artificial, and involve the supposition of a unity, an absolute 
continuity of time. Take millions of events, and do with 
them as you did with bodies, multiply them indefinitely, 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


81 


and they will never equal the time which precedes and 
which succeeds them. Before all finite time, and beyond 
all finite time, there is still time unlimited, infinite, inex¬ 
haustible. Finally, as with the idea of space necessaryand 
illimitable, so is it with the idea of time necessary and 
illimitable ; it is a pure idea of the reason, which escapes 
all sensible representation, all grasp of the imagination and 
the sensibility. 

Now it is with respect to the origin of the idea of time 
as with the origin of the idea of space. Here again we 
are to distinguish the order of the acquisition of our ideas 
from their logical order. In the logical order of ideas, the 
idea of any succession of events pre-supposes that of time. 
There could not be any succession, but upon condition of 
a continuous duration, to the different points of which the 
several members of the succession may be attached. 
Take away the continuity of time, and you take away the 
possibility of the succession of the events; just as the con¬ 
tinuity of space being taken away, the possibility of the 
juxta-position and co-existence of bodies is destroyed. 

But in the chronological order, on the contrary, it is the 
idea of a succession of events, which precedes the idea of 
time as including them. I do not mean to say in regard to 
time, any more than in regard to space, that we have a clear, 
distinct, and complete idea of a succession, and that then 
the idea of time, as including this series or succession, 
springs up. I merely say, it is clearly necessary that we 
should have a perception of some events, in order to conceive 
that these events are in time, [and in order along with, and 
by occasion of, those events to have the idea of time awaken¬ 
ed in the mind.] Time is the place of events, just as space 
is the place of bodies; whoever had no idea of any event, 
[no perception of any succession] would have no idea of 
time. If, then, the logical condition of the idea of suc¬ 
cession, lies in the idea of time, the chronological condition 
of the idea of time is the idea of succession. 

To this result, then, we are come: the idea of succession 
is the occasion, the chronological antecedent, of the necessary 
conception of time. Now eveiy idea of succession is unde¬ 
niably an acquisition of experience. It remains to ascertain 
of what experience. Is it inward, or outward experience ? 


82 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


The first idea of succession,—is it given in the spectacle of 
outward events, or in the consciousness of the events that 
pass within us ? 

Take a succession of outward events. In order that these 
events may be successive, it is necessary that there should 
be a first event, a second, a third, etc. But if, when you 
see the second event, you do not remember the first, it 
would not be the second ; there could be for you no suc¬ 
cession. You would always remain fixed at the first event, 
which would not even have the character of first to you, 
because there would be no second. The intervention of 
memory is necessary, then, in order to conceive of any 
succession whatever. Now memory has for its objects 
nothing external; it relates not to things, but to ourselves; 
we have no memory but of ourselves. When we say, we 
remember such a person, we remember such a place,—it 
means nothing more than that we remember to have been 
seeing such a place, or we remember to have been hearing or 
seeing such a person. There is no memory but of ourselves, 
because there is no memory but where there is consciousness. 
If consciousness then is the condition of memory, and 
memory the condition of time, it follows that the first suc¬ 
cession is given us in ourselves, in consciousness, in the 
proper objects and phenomena of consciousness, in our 
thoughts, in our ideas. But if the first succession given 
us, is that of oiir ideas, as to all succession is necessarily 
attached the conception of time, it follows again, that the 
first idea we have of time, is that of the time in which we 
are; and so the first succession for us, is the succession of 
our own ideas, the first duration for us is our own duration; 
the succession of outward events, and the duration in which 
these events are accomplished, is not known to us till 
afterwards. I do not say, that the succession of outward 
events is nothing but an induction from the succession of 
our own ideas; neither do I say that outward duration is 
nothing but an induction from our own personal duration : 
but I say, that we cannot have an idea, either of external 
succession, or of duration, till after we have had the con¬ 
sciousness and the memory of some internal phenomena, and 
consequently of our own duration. Thus, then, summarily, 
the first duration given us, is our own; because the first 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


83 


succession which is given, is the succession of our own 
ideas. 

A profound and penetrating analysis might carry us fur¬ 
ther still. There is a crowd of ideas, of phenomena, under 
the eye of consciousness. To inquire what is the first suc¬ 
cession given us, is to inquire what are the first ideas, the 
first phenomena, which fall under consciousness, and form 
the first succession. Now it is evident, in respect to our 
sensations, that they are not phenomena of consciousness 
except upon this condition : that we pay attention to them. 
Thousands and thousands of impressions may affect my 
sensibility; but if I do not give them my attention, I have 
no consciousness of them. It is the same with respect to 
many of my thoughts, which, if the attention is directed 
elsewhere, do not come to my consciousness, but vanish in 
reveries. The essential condition of consciousness is atten¬ 
tion ; the internal phenomenon, most intimately allied to 
consciousness then, is attention; and a series of acts of 
attention is necessarily, the first succession which is given 
us. Now what is attention? It is not a re-action of the 
organs against the impression received. It is nothing less 
than the will itself; for nobody is attentive without willing 
to be so; and attention at last resolves itself into the will. 
Thus, the first act of attention is a voluntary act; the first 
event of which we have a consciousness, is a volition, and 
the will is the foundation of consciousness. The first suc¬ 
cession, then, is that of our voluntary acts; the element 
of succession is volition. Now succession measures time, 
as body measures space; from whence it follows, that the 
first succession being that of voluntary acts, the will is the 
primitive measure of time; and as a measure, it has this 
excellence, that it is equal to itself; for everything differs 
in the consciousness, sensations and thoughts, while acts 
of attention, being eminently simple, are essentially similar. 

Such is the theory of the primitive and equal measure 
of time which we owe to M. de Biran; and you may see 
it expressed with perfect originality of analysis and of style, 
in the Lectures of M. Royer-Collard* M. de Biran, con- 

* [Oeuvrescompletes de Thomas Reid publiees par M. Th. Jouf- 
froy avec des Fragmens de M. Royer-Collard. Paris, 1829. 


84 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


tinually repeated that the element of duration is the will; 
and in order to pass from our own duration to outward 
duration, from the succession of our own acts, to the suc¬ 
cession of events, from the primitive and equal measure of 
time for us, to the ulterior and more or less uniform measure 
of time without us, M. de Biran had recourse to a two-fold 
phenomenon of the will, which has reference at once to the 
external and to the internal world. According to de Biran, 
the type of the sentiment of the will is the sentiment of 


To the third and fourth volume of this edition of Reid’s works the 
editor has attached copious extracts and reports of Royer-Collard’s 
lectures, delivered in 1811—1814. An extended discussion con¬ 
cerning duration may be found in Yol. IV. p. 347—426. It is too 
long to be introduced in this place ; a brief view of its results is all 
that can be given. 

The first duration we conceive is, according to Royer-Collard, 
our own. It is not in succession of our feelings that our duration 
consists ; for succession pre-supposes a duration in which it takes 
place. Our duration results from the sentiment of our continued 
identity which results from the continuity of our activity, attested 
by consciousness and memory. To act, with consciousness and 
memory of acting, is to endure. Whenever, in the consciousness 
of our own activity and the succession of its acts, we acquire the 
conception of the duration (our own) in which that succession takes 
place, it becomes independent of the sentiment of our own identical 
and continuous existence, which contained it. By occasion of our 
own duration, we conceive a necessary and illimitable duration, the 
eternal theatre of all existences and all contingent successions; and 
not only do we conceive it, but we are invincibly persuaded of its 
reality. This passage from the conception of time within us to time 
without us, is made, in the opinion of Royer-Collard, by what he 
calls a natural induction. His view of this point seems unnecessary 
and burdened with difficulties, the nature of which the reader will 
apprehend from the criticism of it, by Cousin, as applied to the 
conception of causality, in the next chapter. To explain the origin 
of the conception of Time, it seems to us sufficient to say that when 
by occasion of experience any particular succession is given, the 
mind, in virtue of its own activity and by its own laws, forms the 
necessary and universal conception of time. The primitive succes¬ 
sion given in consciousness and memory (that is, according to Royer- 
Collard, the acts of our own will,) furnishing us the notion of time 
concrete, particular and determinate (our own duration) suffices to 
supply the condition under which the mind in virtue of its own laws, 
without resorting to the process of induction , but immediately forms 
the conception of duration without us, time absolute, unlimited.— 
Tit.] 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


85 


effort. I make an effort to raise my arm, and I raise it. 
I make an effort to walk, and I walk. The effort is a rela¬ 
tion with two terms; the one is internal, namely, the will, 
the act of the will,—the other is external, namely, the 
movement of the arm, or the step that I take, which has 
its cause and its measure in the internal movement of the 
will. Now a movement is nothing else in itself but a most 
simple act of the will. It is at first altogether internal; 
then it passes outward, in the external movement produced 
by the nisus or effort, a movement which reflects that of 
the will, and becomes the measure of all the subsequent 
external movements, as the will itself is the primitive and 
undecomposable measure of the first movement which it 
produces. 

Without taking upon myself either the honour, or the re¬ 
sponsibility of all parts of this theory, I hasten to notice 
that of Locke. The merit of Locke consists in having 
proved that the idea of time, of duration, of eternity, is 
suggested to us by the idea of some succession of events ; 
and that this succession is taken, not from the external 
world, but from the world of consciousness. See B. II. 
ch. X1Y. XY. XYI. For example, ch. XIY. § 4 : “ men 
derive their ideas of duration from their reflection on the 
the trains of the ideas they observe to succeed one another 
in their own understandings.” And, § 6 : “ the idea of 
succession is not from motion.” Also § 12 : “ the constant 
and regular succession of ideas is the measure and standard 
of all other successions.” The analysis of Locke undoubt¬ 
edly does not go far enough ; it does not determine in what 
particular succession of ideas, the first succession, the first 
duration, is given to us. And when it is said that Locke, 
in making the idea of duration to come from reflection, 
makes it to come from the sentiment of the operations of 
the mind, yet as according to Locke, the operations of the 
mind are not all active and voluntary, his theory is very far 
from being the same with that which I have just now stated. 
But it must be acknowledged that the one has opened 
the road for the other; and that it was doing much to have 
deduced the idea of time from the interior, from the phe¬ 
nomena of reflection. This is the merit of Locke’s theory. 

i 


86 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


The vice of it, however, is more considerable ; but still it 
is closely allied to the merit. Locke saw that the idea of 
time is given in succession, and that the first succession 
for us, is, necessarily, the succession of our own ideas. Thus 
far Locke deserves only praise, for he gives the succession 
of our ideas merely as the condition of the acquisition of 
the idea of time; but the condition of a thing is easily 
taken for the thing itself, and Locke, after having taken 
the idea of body, the mere condition [chronological an¬ 
tecedent, and occasion] of the idea of space, for the idea 
of space itself, here also takes the condition of the idea of 
time, for the idea itself. He confounds succession with 
time. He not only says that the succession of our ideas, is 
the condition of the conception of time ; but he says that 
time is nothing else than the succession of our ideas. B. 
II. ch. XIY. § 4; “ That we have our notion of succession 
and duration from this original, namely, from reflection on 
the train of ideas which we find to appear one after another 
in our minds, seems plain to me in that we have no per¬ 
ception of duration, but by considering the train of ideas 
that take their turns in our understandings. When that 
succession of ideas ceases, our perception of duration ceases 
with it; which every one clearly experiments in himself, 
while he sleeps soundly, whether an hour, or a day, or a 
month, or a year; of which duration of things, whilst he 
sleeps or thinks not, he has no perception at all, but it is 
quite lost to him ; and the moment wherein he leaves off to 
think, till the moment he begins to think again, seems to 
him to have no distance. And so, I doubt not, it would 
be to waking man, if it were possible for him to keep 
only one idea in his mind, without variation and the suc¬ 
cession of others.” 

In this whole passage there is ; 1. A confusion of two 
ideas very distinct—duration and succession. 

2. Au obvious paralogism; for duration is explained by 
succession, which, in its turn, is explicable only by duration. 
In truth, where do the elements of any succession follow 
each other, if not in some duration ? Or how could suc¬ 
cession—the distance, so to say, between ideas—take places 
unless in the space proper to ideas and to minds, that is 
in time ? 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


87 


3. Moreover, see to what results the theory of Locke 
leads. If succession is no longer merely the measure of time, 
but time itself; if the succession of ideas is no longer the 
condition of the conception of time, but the conception 
itself; it follows that time is nothing else than the fact of 
there being a succession of our ideas. The succession of 
our ideas is more or less rapid; and time then is more or 
less short, not in appearance, but in reality. In absolute 
sleep, in lethargy, all succession of idea ceases; and then we 
have no duration and not only have we no duration but there 
is no duration for anything; for not only our time, but 
time in itself, is nothing but the succession of our ideas. 
Ideas exist but under the eye of consciousness ; but there 
is no consciousness in lethargy, in total sleep ; consequently 
there was no time. The time-piece vainly moved on : the 
time-piece was wrong; and the sun, like the time-piece, 
should have stopped. 

These are the results, very extravagant indeed, and yet 
the necessary results of confounding the idea of succession < 
with that of time; and the confusion itself is necessary in 
the general system of Locke, which deduces all our ideas - 
from sensation and reflection. Sensation had according to 
him given space; reflection gives time ; but reflection, that 
is, consciousness with memory, pertains only to the suc¬ 
cession of our ideas, of our voluntary acts; a succession 
finite and contingent, and not time, necessary and unlimited, 
in which this succession takes place. Experience, whether 
external or internal, gives us only the measure of time, and 
not time itself. Now Locke, by his assumed theory, was ^ 
forbidden any source of knowledge but sensation and re¬ 
flection. It was necessary of course to make time explicable.-' 
by the one or the other. He saw very clearly that it was 
not explicable by sensation, and it could not be by reflection, ^ 
except upon reducing it to the measure of time, that is to 
say, to succession.* Locke has thus, it is true, destroyed 
[ time; but he has saved his system. It is at the same price 
he will save it again in respect to the idea of the Infinite. 

Time and Space have for their characteristics, that they 

* [For we are conscious of Succession, (the succession of our own 
ideas) but not of Time.—T r.] 

I 2 


88 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


are illimitable and infinite. Without doubt the idea of the 
infinite is applicable to something else besides time and 
space ; but since we have hitherto treated only of time and 
space, we will now refer the idea of the infinite merely to 
time and space, as Locke has set the example. 

Space and time are infinite. Now the idea of the infinite 
may be detached from the ideas of time and space, and 
considered in itself, provided we always keep in mind the 
subject from which it is abstracted. The idea of the in-*, 
finite unquestionably exists in the human understanding, 
since there is undeniably in it the idea of time, and the 
idea of space, which are infinite. The infinite is distinct 
from the finite, and consequently from the multiplication of 
the finite, by itself, that is, from the indefinite. Zeroes of 
the finite added as many times as you please to themselves, 
will never make up the infinite. You can no more deduce 
the infinite from the finite, than you could deduce space 
from body, or time from succession. 

In respect to the origin of the idea of the infinite, recollect 
that if you had not had the idea of any body, nor of any 
succession, you would never have had the idea of space, 
nor of time; but that at the same time, you cannot have 
the idea of a body or of a succession, without having [ne¬ 
cessarily awakened along with ij] the idea of space or of 
time. Now body and succession are the finite ; space and 
time are the infinite. Without the finite, there is for you 
no infinite ; but at the same time, immediately that you 
have the idea of the finite, you cannot help having the idea 
of the infinite. Here recollect again the distinction between 
the order of the acquisition of our cognitions and their 
logical order. In the logical order, the finite supposes the 
infinite as its necessary ground ; but in the chronological 
order, the idea of the finite is the necessary condition [oc¬ 
casion] of the acquisition of the idea of the infinite. 

These facts are evident and undeniable; but Locke had 
a system, and this system consisted in admitting no other 
origin of all our ideas but sensation and reflection. Now 
the idea of the finite, which resolves itself into that of body 
and of succession, comes easily from sensation or from 
reflection ; but the idea of the infinite, which resolves itself 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


89 


neither into the idea of body nor of succession, since time 
and space are neither the one nor the other of these two,— 
the idea of the infinite, can come neither from sensation 
nor from reflection. If the idea of the infinite jsnbsist, the 
system of Locke must then be false. It was necessary then 
that the idea of the infinite should not subsist; and Locke 
has accordingdy repulsed and eluded it as much as possible. 
He begins by declaring that the idea of the infinite is very 
obscure, while that of the finite is very clear and comes 
easily into the mind, (B. II. ch. XVII. § 2.) But in the 
first place, whether obscure, or not obscure, is it in the in¬ 
telligence ? That is the question, and whether obscure or 
not obscure, if it is real, it is your duty as a philosopher to 
admit it, whether you can render it clearer or not. 

And then as to the obscure, let us understand ourselves. 
The senses have to do only with body; consciousness or 
reflection, with succession. The objects of sense and of 
consciousness are then body and succession, that is to say, 
the finite. Thus truly nothing is clearer, for sense or for 
consciousness, than the finite; while the infinite is and 
ought to be very obscure for sense and consciousness, for 
this very simple and sufficient ground, that the infinite is- 
the object neither of sense nor of consciousness, but of the 
reason alone. If, then, you go about to apprehend the in¬ 
finite by sense and consciousness, it is necessarily obscure 
and even inaccessible ; but if by reason, nothing is clearer, 
even to the degree that it is then precisely the finite which 
becomes obscure to your eyes and escapes you. Thus you 
may perceive how Empiricism, grounding itself exclusively 
upon experience, internal or external, is naturally led to the 
denial of the infinite; while Idealism, grounding itself 
exclusively upon the reason, forms a very clear idea of the 
infinite, but scarcely admits the finite, which is not the ap¬ 
propriate object of the reason. 

After having sported awhile with the idea of the infinite 
as obscure, Locke objects again that it is purely negative, 
that it has nothing positive in it. B. II. ch. XVII. § 
13 : “ We have no positive idea of infinity.” § 16 : “ We 
have no positive idea of an infinite duration.” § 18 : “ We 
have no positive idea of infinite space.” Here we have the 
i 3 


90 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


accusation so often since repeated, against the conceptions 
of reason, that they are not positive. But first, observe 
that there can no more be an idea of succession without 
the idea of time, than of time without the previous idea of 
succession ; and no more idea of body without the idea of 
space, than of space without the previous idea of body; 
that is to say, there can no more be the idea of the finite 
without the idea of infinite, than of the infinite without the 
previous idea of the finite. From whence it follows in 
strictness, that these ideas suppose each other, and if any 
one pleases to say, reciprocally limit each other ; and con¬ 
sequently, the idea of the infinite is no more the negative of 
that of the finite, than the idea of the finite is the negative 
of that of the infinite. They are both negatives on the 
same ground, or they are both positives; for they are two 
simultaneous affirmations, and every affirmation gives a 
positive idea. 

Or does Locke understand by positive, that which falls 
under experience external or internal, and by negative, that 
which does not fall under experience ? Then I grant that 
the idea of body and of succession, that is of the finite, 
does fall solely under experience, under sensation and con¬ 
sciousness ; and that it alone is positive, while the idea of 
time and of space, that is, of the infinite, falling only under 
reason, is purely negative. But with this explanation, we 
should be driven in strict consistency, to maintain that all 
rational conceptions, for example those of Geometry and 
Morals, are also purely negative, and have nothing posi¬ 
tive in them. 

But if by positive be understood everything which is 
not abstract, everything that is real, everything that falls 
within the immediate and direct grasp of some one of our 
faculties, it must be admitted that the idea of the infinite, 
of time and of space, is as positive as that of the finite, of 
succession and of body, since it falls under the reason, a 
faculty altogether as real and as positive as the senses and 
consciousness, although its proper objects are not those of 
experience.* 

* [The idea of the infinite .—This criticism i» unquestionably valid 
ms against Locke's reduction of the infinite to number, his confusion 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


91 


At last being obliged to explain himself categorically, 
after many contradictions, (for Locke often speaks else¬ 
where, and here also, of the infinity of God, B. II. ch. 
XVII. § 1, and even of the infinity of time and space, ib. 
§ 4, 5,) he ends by resolving the infinite into number (ib. 
§ 9 :) “ Number affords us the dearest idea of infinity .”— 
“ But of all other ideas, it is number, as I have said, which 
I think furnishes us with the clearest and most distinct 
idea of infinity we are capable of. For even in space and 
duration, when the mind pursues the idea of infinity, it 
there makes use of the ideas and repetitions of numbers, 
as of millions of millions of miles, or years, which are so 
many distinct ideas, keep best by number from running 
into a confused heap, wherein the mind loses itself.” 

But what is number? It is in the last analysis, such 
or such a number; for every number is a determinate 
number. It is then a finite number, whatever it may be. 

of the idea of the infinite with that of the finite, and consequent 
destruction of the former idea. But there still remains a higher 
question concerning the positive science of the infinite, which in¬ 
volves the possibility of philosophy itself, considered as the positive 
knowledge of the absolute and infinite, or viewed as anything more 
than the observation and analysis of the phenomena of consciousness. 
The possibility of philosophy, in this sense of the word, is indeed 
the grand problem of speculative inquiry ; the resolution of it, 
explicit or implied, determines the most general character of the 
great systems of philosophy. It is a question however which we do 
not intend here to discuss. We will only remark that the position 
taken by Cousin on this subject, in his other works, constitutes the 
chief pretension and systematic peculiarity of his philosophy. It is 
a position certainly not without great difficulties. Cousin’s theory 
on this subject has been very ably combatted in an article in the 
Edinburgh Review for October 1829. The foregoing discussion in 
this chapter may remind those who have read the article alluded to, 
of the objection raised by the reviewer against Cousin’s doctrine, 
namely, that the idea of the infinite is purely negative ; and the 
above remarks will, perhaps, be thought a sufficient answer to the 
objection. But in the Preface to the second edition of the Philoso¬ 
phical Fragments , and in the Preface to Cousin’s edition of M. Be 
Biran’s Rapport du Physique et du Moral , extracts from which are 
printed in the appendix to this volume, will be found what the au¬ 
thor himself (in a letter to the present translator) speaks of as a 
sufficient “ implicit reply to the article of the Edinburgh Review.” 

Tr.] 


92 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


Raise the figure as high as you please, the number, as 
such, is only a particular number, an element of succession, 
and consequently a finite element. Number is the parent 
of succession, not of duration ; number and succession 
measure time, but are not adequate to it, and do not con¬ 
stitute it. 

The reduction of the infinite to number is, then, the re¬ 
duction of time infinite, to its measure indefinite, that is 
to the finite; just as in regard to space, the reduction 
of space to body is the reduction of the infinite to the finite. 
Now to reduce the infinite to the finite is to destroy it; 
it is to destroy the belief of the human race ; but, as before 
observed, it saves the system of Locke. In fact the infinite 
can be found neither in sense nor in consciousness, but 
the finite can be found there wonderfully well. It alone is 
found. There is, ‘then, (for Locke) nothing else, neither 
in the mind nor in nature; and the idea of the infinite is 
nothing but a vague and obscure idea, altogether negative, 
which at last, when reduced to its just value, resolves 
itself into number and succession [as the only part of it 
actual and real.] 

Let us now examine the theory of Personal Identity 
in Locke, as we have that of Infinity, of Time, and of 
Space. 

Is the idea of personal identity found, or not found, in 
the human understanding ? Every one can answer for him¬ 
self. Is there any one who doubts his personal identity, 
who doubts that he is the same he was yesterday, and will 
be to-morrow ? If no one doubts his personal identity, 
it remains solely to seek the origin of this idea. 

I suppose if you did not think and were not conscious of 
thinking, you would not know that you existed. Reflect 
whether in the absence of all thought, all consciousness, 
you could have any idea of your own existence, and conse¬ 
quently of your existence as one and the same ? On the 
other hand, can you have the consciousness of a single 
operation of your mind, without instantly having an irresisti- 
ble conviction of your existence ? You cannot. In every 
act of consciousness there is the consciousness of some 
operation, some phenomenon, some thought, volition, or 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


93 


sensation; and at the same time the conception of our 
existence. And when memory, following consciousness, 
comes into exercise, the phenomena which just before were 
under the eye of consciousness, fall under that of memory, 
with this implicit conviction, that the same being, the same 
I myself ’ who was the subject of the phenomena of which 
I was conscious, still exists, and is the same whom my me¬ 
mory recalls to me. And you are carefully to observe that 
the sole direct objects of memory and of consciousness are 
phenomena present and past; but at the same time, con¬ 
sciousness and memory never take cognizance of these phe¬ 
nomena without the reason suggesting to me the irresistible 
conviction of my personal existence one and identical. 

Now if you distinguish again the two orders I have re¬ 
peatedly mentioned, the logical order and the chronological 
order of knowledge, it is evident that in the order of reason 
and nature, it is not the consciousness and memory with their 
acts, which are the foundation of personal identity ; on the 
contrary, personal identity, the con tinued existence of the 
being, is the foundation of consciousness and of memory and 
of their continuity. Take away being, and there are no 
longer any phenomena ; the phenomena no longer come to 
consciousness and memory. Thus in the order of nature 
and of reason, consciousness and memory involve the 
supposition of personal identity. But it is not so in the chro¬ 
nological order. In this order, though we cannot be con¬ 
scious and remember without instantly having a rational con¬ 
viction of our identical existence; nevertheless it is necessary 
in order to have this conviction of our identity, that there 
should have been some act of consciousness and of memory. 
Undoubtedly the act of memory and of consciousness is 
not consummated, until the conception of our personal 
identity is given us ; but some act of memory and of con¬ 
sciousness must have taken place, in order that the concep¬ 
tion of our identity should take place in its tura. It is 

( in this sense I say. that an exercise of memory, and of 
consciousness, of some sort, is the necessary chronological 
condition of the conception of our personal identity. 

Analysis might bring up concerning the phenomena of 
consciousness and of memory, which suggest to us the idea 



94 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


of our personal identity, the same problem that has already 
been brought up concerning those phenomena of conscious¬ 
ness which suggest the idea of time : it may examine what, 
among the numerous phenomena which we are conscious 
of and remember, are those by occasion of which we first 
acquire the conviction of our existence. This, in fact, is 
to inquire what are the conditions of memory and of con¬ 
sciousness. We have already seen that the condition of 
memory is consciousness. It remains, then, to see what 
is the condition of consciousness. But we have already 
seen also, that the condition of consciousness is attention,^ 
<*—and the condition of attention is the will. It is the 
will, then, attested by consciousness, which suggests to 
ns the conviction of our own existence; and it is the 
continuity of the will attested by the memory, which 
suggests to us the conviction of our personal identity. It 
is M. de Biran to whom again I refer the honour and the 
responsibility of this theoiy. 

Let us now notice the theory of Locke. It was very 
clearly seen by Locke (B. II. ch. XXVII. § 9) that where 
there is no consciousness, (and, as has been said, Locke 
should have added memory);—where there is neither con¬ 
sciousness nor memory, there can be for us no idea of our 
personal identity; and that the .sign, the characteristic,, 
and the measure of personality, is consciousness. I can¬ 
not attribute too much praise to this part of the theory of 
Locke. It apprehends and puts in clear light the true 
sign, the true characteristic, and measure of personality. 
But the sign is one thing, and the thing signified is 
another thing ; the measure is one thing, the thing 
measured is another thing ; the eminent and fundamental 
characteristic of self, and of personal identity, is one thing, 
the identity itself is another thing. Here, as in regard to 
the infinity, to time, and to space, Locke has confounded 
the condition of an idea with the idea itself. He has 
confounded identity with consciousness and memory, 
which represent it and which suggest the idea of it. B. 
II. ch. XXVII. § 9. “ Since consciousness always 

accompanies thinking, and it is that which makes every 
one to be w r hat he calls self and thereby distinguishes 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


95 


himself from all other thinking beings; in this alone 
consists personal identity, that is, the sameness of a 
rational being; and so far as this consciousness can be 
extended backwards to any past action or thought, so far 
reaches the identity of that person; it is the same self 
now that it was then, and it is by the same self with this 
present one that now reflects on it, that that action was 
done.” Ib. § 10, “ Consciousness makes personal identity 
and § 16, “ Consciousness makes the same person;” § 17, 
“ Self depends on consciousness§ 23, “ Conscious¬ 
ness alone makes self.” 

Now the confusion of consciousness and personal identity 
destroys personal identity, just as the confusion of number 
and infinity destroys infinity, as the confusion of succession 
and time destroys time, as the confusion of body and 
space destroys space. In truth, if personal identity con¬ 
sists wholly in consciousness, then when consciousness is 
impaired or lost, there must be a diminution or loss of 
personal identity. Deep sleep, lethargy, which is a species 
of sleep, revery, intoxication, or passion, which frequently 
destroys the consciousness, and of course the memory, 
must not only destroy the sense or feeling of existence, 
but existence itself. It is not necessary to follow all the 
consequences of this theory. It is evident that if memory 
and consciousness not merely measure existence for us, 
but constitute it, any one who has forgotten that he did 
an act, did not in reality do it; any one who has badly 
measured by memory the time of his existence, has really 
had less of existence. A man no longer recollects to have 
committed a crime; he cannot be put upon trial for it, 
for he has ceased to be the same person. The murderer 
must no longer suffer the punishment of his act, if by a 
fortunate chance he has lost the recollection of it. 

To resume : no doubt personality has, for its distinguish¬ 
ing sign, the will, and the operations of consciousness and 
memory; and if we never had either consciousness or 
memory of a ay operation and of any voluntary act, we 
should never have the idea of our personal identity. But 
this idea once introduced by [occasion of] consciousness 
and memory into the intelligence, subsists there indepen- 


96 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY 


dently of the memory of the acts which occasioned it. No 
doubt that which attests and measures personality and the 
moral accountability of our actions, is the consciousness of 
the free-will which produced them ; but when these actions 
are once performed by us with consciousness and free-will; 
though the recollection of them may have faded or vanished 
quite away. yet the responsibility of them, as well as our 
personality, remains complete. It is not, then, conscious¬ 
ness and memory which constitute our personal identity. 
Still more, not only do they not constitute it, but personal 
identity is not even an object of consciousness and of 
memory. None of us has a consciousness of his own nature ; 
otherwise, the depths of existence would be easy to sound, 
and the mysteries of the soul would be perfectly known. 
We should perceive the soul as we perceive any phenomena 
of the consciousness which we apprehend directly, sensation, 
volition, thinking. But such is not the fact. The personal 
existence, the self which we are, does not fall under the 
eyes of consciousness and memory; and nothing does, but 
the operations by which this self is manifested. These 
operations are the proper objects of consciousness and 
memory; personal identity is a conviction of the reason. 
But none of these distinctions could find a place in the 
theory of Locke. The pretension of this theory is to de¬ 
duce all ideas from sensation and reflection. Now the idea 
of personal identity could not be made to come from 
sensation; it was necessary, therefore, to make it come 
from reflection, that is, to make it an object of memory 
and of consciousness, that is, again, to destroy the idea of 
personal existence, by confounding it with the phenomena 
which reveal it, and which, too, without it would be im¬ 
possible. 

It only remains now to examine the theory of Substance. 
And in the first place, do not be disturbed by the idea of 
substance, any more than by that of the infinite. Infinity 
is an attribute of time and space; so the idea and the 
word substance is a generalization from the fact which I 
have just been discussing. Consciousness, with, memory, 
attests to you an operation, or many successive operations, 
and at the same time reason suggests the belief of your 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


97 


own peisonal existence. Now your personal existence, the 
self which you are, and which reason reveals to you,— 
what is it, relatively to the operations which consciousness 
and memory attest to you ? It is the subject of these 
operations, of which the operations themselves are the 
characteristics, the signs, the attributes. These operations 
are perpetually changing and renewing ; they are accidents. 
On the contrary, your personal existence subsists always 
the same ; amidst the perpetual diversity of your acts, you 
are to-day the same that you were yesterday, and that you 
will be to-morrow. Personal identity is the unity of your 
being your self opposed to plurality of consciousness and 
memory. Now being, one and identical, opposed to vari¬ 
able accidents, to transitory phenomena, is substance. 

Here you have personal substance. And it is the same 
in relation to external substance, which I do not yet care 
to call material substance. The touch gives you the idea 
of resistance, of solid; the other senses give you the idea 
of other qualities, primary or secondary. But what! Is 
there nothing but these qualities ? While the senses give 
you solidity, colour, figure, softness, hardness, etc., do you 
believe that these qualities are merely in the air; or do you 
not believe that they are the qualities of something really 
existing, and which because it really is, is solid, hard, soft, 
of a certain colour, figure, etc. ? You would not have had 
the idea of this something, if the senses had not first given 
you the idea of these qualities; but you cannot have the 
idea of these qualities without the idea of this something 
existent. This is the universal belief, which implies the 
distinction between qualities and the subject of qualities, 
between accidents and substance. 

Attributes, accidents, phenomena;—being, substance, 
subject;—these are the generalizations drawn from the two 
incontestible facts of my belief in my own personal exist¬ 
ence, and my belief in the existence of an external world. 

Now everything which has been said of body and space, 
of succession and time, of the finite and the infinite, of 
consciousness and personal identity, all this may be said 
of attribute and subject, of qualities and substance, of 
phenomena and being. When we inquire concerning the 
K 


98 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


origin of the idea of phenomena, of quality, of attribute ; 
if the question be concerning an attribute of an external 
substance, the idea is given by the senses ; if concerning 
an attribute of the mind, the idea is given by consciousness. 
But as to the substance itself, whether material or spiritual, 
it is not given either by sense or consciousness; it is a 
revelation of the reason in the exercise of sense and con¬ 
sciousness ; just as space and time, infinity and personal 
identity, are revealed to us by the reason in the exercise of 
the sensibility, the consciousness and the memory. In 
fine, as body, succession, the finite, variety, logically involve 
the supposition of space, time, infinity and unity; so in 
order of reason and nature [the logical order] it is evident, 
that attribute and accident involve the supposition of 
subject and substance. But it is not less evident than in 
the order of the acquisition of our ideas, [the chronological 
order,] the idea of attribute and accident is the necessary 
condition of arriving at that of substance and subject; just 
as in this same order, the idea of body, of succession, of 
number, of variety, is the condition of the idea of space, 
of time, of infinity, of identity.—It remains to see what 
place the idea of substance occupies in the system of 
Locke. 

“ I confess,” says he, B. I. ch. IY. § 18, “ there is one 
idea which would be of general use for mankind to have, 
as it is of general talk, as if they had it: and this is the 
idea of substance, which we neither have nor can have by 
sensation or reflection.” Locke, then, systematically de¬ 
nies the idea of substance. Unquestionably many passages 
might be cited, in which he implicitly admits it; while he 
openly repels it in one place as “ of little use in philoso¬ 
phy,” B. II. ch. XIII. § 19 :—in another as obscure: 

“ we have no clear idea of substance in general ,” B. II. ch. 
XXIII. § 4. But take away from substance this character¬ 
istic of abstraction and generality; restore it to reality; 
and then substance is self, or is body. What then ! can 
we say that the idea is of little use in philosophy; that is, 
does the belief of my personal identity, and the belief of 
an external world, play but an insignificant part in my 
understanding and in human life? Unquestionably to the 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


99 


senses, as well as to consciousness, all substance is obscure; 
for no substance, material or spiritual, is in itself a proper 
object of sense or of consciousness. But to reason, we 
say again as before, it is not obscure. The idea of sub- • 
stance is the proper object of reason, which has its own 
objects, and reveals them to us with as much evidence as 
consciousness and the senses attest their objects. 

^ Locke, however, everywhere repels the idea of substance, 
and when he officially explains it, he resolves it into a collec¬ 
tion of simple ideas of sensation, or of reflection. B. II. ch. 

XXIII. § 3, 4, 6 : “-no other idea of substances 

than what is framed by a collection of simple ideas.”- 

“ It is by such combinations of simple ideas, and nothing 
else, that we represent particular sorts of substances to our¬ 
selves.” § 37. “ Recapitulation. All our ideas of the 
several sorts of substances^are nothing but collections of 
simple ideas, with a supposition of something to which they 
belong, and in which they subsist; though of this supposed 
something we have no clear distinct idea at all,” And he 
declares that we know nothing of matter but the aggregate 
of its qualities, and nothing of mind but the aggregate of, 
its operations. Nothing can be more true than this in a 
certain respect. It is indubitable that we know nothing 
of mind but what its operations teach us concerning it, and 
nothing of matter but what its qualities teach us of it; just 
as w r e have already granted that we know nothing of time 
save that which succession teaches us of it, nor of space, 
save that which body teaches, nor of the infinite, save that 
which the finite teaches, nor of self, save that which con¬ 
sciousness teaches. Body is the sole measure of space, 
succession of time the finite of the infinite, the operations 
of consciousness of our identity ; and just so, attributes 
and qualities are the sole measures and the only signs of 
substances, whether material or spiritual. But because 
we do not know anything of a thing except what another 
thing teaches us concerning it, it does not follow that the 
former thing is the latter. Because it is only by the aggre¬ 
gate of its qualities that substance manifests itself, it does 
not follow that substance is nothing but an aggregate of 
those qualities. f It is evident that the aggregate of qualities 
K 2 




100 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


into which Locke resolves substance, is altogether impos¬ 
sible without the supposition of substance. Itoyer-Collard 
has perfectly exposed the various aspects of this impos¬ 
sibility.* I shall bring forward but a single one. Among 
all conditions which are requisite to the possibility of this 
aggregate, look at one which is clearly unquestionable : it 
is that there should be some person, some mind, to make 
this collection, this combination. Numbers placed under 
each other do not make addition; arithmetic does not itself 
perform the whole, it demands an arithmetician. Now 
/Locke, by denying substance, has destroyed the arith¬ 
metician necessary in order to make this addition. The 
^ human mind no longer exists as an integrating unity, 
capable of finding the sum of the different quantities of 
which the collection is to be composed. But pass over 
this radical difficulty, and suppose that a collection is 
possible without some person, some mind, to make 
it. Suppose it made, and made of itself. What will it 
be ? All that a mere collection can be : a class, a genus,- 
an abstraction, that is to say, a word. See, then, to what 
you ultimately arrive. Without speaking of God—who is, 
however, the substance, of substances, the being of beings 
—behold mind, behold matter, reduced to words. The 
scholastic philosophy had converted many collections into 
substances, many general words- into entities ; but by a 
I contrary extravagance, Locke has converted substauce into 
a collection, and made all things to be words. This I 
mean is the necessary consequence of his system. Admit¬ 
ting none but ideas explicable by sensation or reflection, and 
being unable to explain the idea of substance either by the 
one or the other, he was necessarily led to deny it, to re- . 
S solve it into a combination of the simple ideas of qualities , 
which are easily attained by sensation or reflection, and 
which his system admits and explains. Hence the system¬ 
atic identification of substance and qualities, of being and 
phenomena, that is to say the destruction of being, and 
consequently of beings. Nothing exists in itself, neither 


* [ Fragments of the Lectures of M. Royer- Collard, published in 
Jovffroy’s edition of the Works of Reid, Vol. IV. p. 30.] 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


101 


God, nor the world, neither you nor myself. Everything 
resolves itself into phenomena, into abstractions, into 
words : and singular enough, it is the very fear of ab¬ 
stractions, and of verbal entities, the ill-understood taste 
for reality, that carries Locke into an absolute nominalism ^ 
which ends in absolute nihilism. 

I shall pursue the examination of the second book of the 
Essay on the Human Understanding, and shall take up the 
idea of cause, and the idea of good and evil. 


* inn. 





CRITICAL EXAMINATION 


OF 

LOCKE’S ESSAY 


ON 


THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING, 


CHAPTER FOURTH 





CONTENTS OF CHAPTER IV. 


General remarks on the foregoing results.—Continuation of the 
examination of the Second Book of the Essay on the Human Under¬ 
standing. Of the idea of Cause.—Origin in sensation. Refutation. 
—Origin in reflection and the sentiment of the Will. Distinction 
between the idea of Cause, and the Principle of Causality.—That 
the principle of causality is inexplicable by the sentiment of will.— 
Of the true formation of the principle of Causality. 


105 


CHAPTER IV. 

The first fault of Locke in respect to the ideas of space^ 
of time, of the infinite, of personal identity, and of substance, 
is a fault of method. /Instead of investigating and ascer¬ 
taining, at the outset, by impartial observation, the charac¬ 
teristics which these ideas actually display in the human 
understanding, Locke begins with the exceedingly obscure 
and difficult question concerning the origin of those ideas. 

/Then he resolves this question in respect to those ideas, 
by his general system concerning the origin of ideas, which 
consists in admitting no idea that is not formed by 
sensation, or by reflection. Now the ideas of Space, of 
Time, of the Infinite, of Personal Identity, and of Substance, 
with the characteristics by which they are undeniably 
marked, are inexplicable by sensation and reflection, and 
by consequence, incompatible with the system of Locke./ 
There remained, then, but one resource : to mutilate those 
ideas with their attributes, so as to reduce them to the 
measure of other ideas which really do come from sensation 
or reflection ; for example, the ideas of body, of succession, 
of number, of the direct phenomena of consciousness and 
memory, of the attributes of outward objects and of our 
own attributes. 

But we believe we have shown that these latter ideas, 
while they are indeed the condition [the necessary occasion] 
of the acquisition of the former ideas, are nevertheless not 
the same as the former;—they are the chronological • 
antecedent, but not the logical reason of them; they 
precede, but do not engender nor explain them. Thus 
facts distorted and confused, save the system of Locke; 
re-established and distinguished with clearness, they over¬ 
throw it. 


106 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


These observations are equally and specially applicable 
to the theory of one of the most important ideas in the 
human understanding, the idea which figures most in 
human life, and in the books of philosophers; I mean the 
idea of Cause. It would have been wise in Locke to have 
begun by recognizing and describing this idea exactly as 
it is, and as it is manifested by our actions and speech. 
But far from this, Locke begins by investigating the 
origin of the idea of cause, and without hesitation refers 
it to sensation; this will be seen by the following pas¬ 
sage : 

B. II. ch. XXYI. § 1.—“ Of cause and effect. Whence 
their ideas got” “ In the notice that our senses take of 
the constant vicissitude of things, we cannot but observe, 
that several particular, both qualities and substances, 
begin to exist; and that they receive this their existence 
from the due application and operation of some other 
being. From this observation we get our ideas of cause 
and effect. That which produces any simple or complex 
ideas, we denote by the general name, cause; and that 
which is produced, effect. Thus finding that in that 
substance which we call wax, fluidity, which is a simple 
idea that was not in it before, is constantly produced by 
the application of a certain degree of heat; we call the 
simple idea of heat, in relation to fluidity, in wax, the 
cause of it, and fluidity, the effect. So also, finding that 
the substance wood, which is a certain collection of simple 
ideas so called, by the application of fire is turned into 
another substance called ashes, that is, another complex 
idea, consisting of a collection of simple ideas quite dif¬ 
ferent from that complex idea which we call wood; we 
consider fire, in relation to ashes, as the cause, and ashes 
as effect.” § 2: “ Having thus, from what our senses 
are able to discover in the operations of bodies on one 
another, got the notion of cause and effect- 

This is positive. The idea of cause has its origin in 
/ sensation. Such clearly is the theory of Locke; it remains 
to examine it. And first of all, since the question is, 
whether sensation gives us the idea of cause, we must 
guard against taking for granted the thing in question. 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


107 


We must abstract the sensation from every foreign element 
and interrogate that alone, in order to discern what it can 
give relative to the idea of cause. 

I suppose myself, then, limited exclusively to sensation. 
This done, I take the example of Locke, that of a piece of 
wax which melts and passes into a liquid state by contact 
with fire. Now what is there in this, for the senses, to 
which alone I am confined ? There is first two phenomena, 
the wax and the fire, in contact with each other. Of this 
the senses inform me; they inform, moreover, of a modifica¬ 
tion in the wax which was not there before. A moment, 
before, they showed me the wax in one state ; now they 
show it me in a different state; and this different state 
they show me at the same time that they show, or immedi- 
. ately after they have shown me, the presence of another 
phenomenon, namely, the fire; or in other words, the senses 
show me the succession of one phenomenon to another. 
Do the senses show me anything more P I do not see that 
they do, and Locke does not pretend that they do; for 
according to him, the senses give us the idea of cause in 
the observation of the constant vicissitude of things. Now 
the vicissitude of things is clearly the succession of pheno¬ 
mena to each other. Let this succession re-appear some¬ 
times, or frequently, or even constantly; you will have a 
constant succession ; but whether constant and perpetual 
or limited to a very few cases, the nature of the succession 
is clearly not altered by the number. Succession is never 
anything but succession. Thus the constant vicissitude of 
things at the bottom resolves itself into their vicissitude, 
which is nothing but their succession. I agree with Locke 
- that the senses give me this succession; and Locke does 
not pretend that they give me anything more. The only 
question between us, then, is to ascertain whether the suc¬ 
cession, rare or constant, of two phenomena, explains, ex¬ 
hausts the idea of cause. If it does, then the senses give 
us the idea of cause; otherwise not. This is the true and 
the only question. 

I ask, then, whether if a phenomenon succeeds another, 
and succeeds it constantly, the latter is the cause ? Is it 
all the idea you form of cause ? When you say, when you 


108 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


think, that the fire is the cause of the fluidity of the wax, I 
put it to you, whether you merely understand that the 
phenomenon of fluidity succeeds the phenomenon of the 
contact of fire ? I put it to you whether you do not believe > 
whether the whole human race do not believe, that there 
is in the fire an incomprehensible, an unknown something 
which it is not our object here to determine, but to which 
/you refer the production of the phenomenon of fluidity in 
the wax. I put it to you, whether the conception of a 
phenomenon appearing after another phenomenon, is not 
one thing; and the conception of a certain property in a 
phenomenon which produces the modification tested by the 
senses in the phenomenon that follows, another thing . 

I will take an example often employed and which ex¬ 
presses perfectly well the difference between succession, and 
the relation of cause and effect. I will suppose that I wish 
at this moment to hear a melody, a succession of musical 
sounds, and scarcely is my volition complete, wheft that 
succession of sounds is heard from a neighbouring apartment 
and strikes my ear. There is nothing in this but a relation 
of succession. But suppose that I will to produce those 
sounds, and that I do produce them myself: do I in this 
case predicate nothing, between my volition and the sounds, 
but the relation of succession, which I predicated in the 
former case between my volition and the accidental sounds ? 
Do I not in this case, besides the evident relation of suc¬ 
cession, assume another relation still, and one altogether 
different ? Is it not evident that in the last case, I believe 
not only that the first phenomenon, the will, preceded the 
second, the sounds ; but moreover, that the first pheno¬ 
menon produced the second ;—in short, that my will is the 
cause, and the sounds the effect ? This is undeniable : it 
is undeniable, that in certain cases, we perceive between 
two phenomena only the relation of succession, and that 
in certain other cases, we predicate of them the relation of 
cause to the effect; and that these two relations are not 
identical. The conviction of every one, and the universal 
belief of the human race, leave no doubt on this subject. 
Our acts are not only phenomena which appear in a se¬ 
quence to the operation of volition ; they are judged by us, 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


109 


and recognized by others, as the direct effects of our 
volitions. Prom hence, moral imputation, and judicial im- f 
putation, and three quarters of human life and conduct. If 
there is nothing but a relation of succession, between the 
action of the murderer and the death of his victim, then 
the universal belief and the whole structure of civil society 
is nothing. For civil life is founded upon the hypothesis, 
universally admitted, that man is a cause; as the science 
of nature is also founded upon the hypothesis that external 
bodies are causes, that is, have properties which can and 
do produce effects. Prom the fact, then, that the senses 
give us the succession of phenomena, their succession more 
or less constant, it does not follow that they explain that 
, connection of phenomena, far more intimate and profound, 
which we call the relation of cause and effect; and conse¬ 
quently they do not explain the origin of the idea of cause. - 
As to the rest, I refer you to Hume, who has perfectly 
distinguished vicissitude, that is, succession, from causation,y 
and completely demonstrated that the latter cannot come 
from sensation.* Enough has been shown to ruin the 

* See Hume’s Essays on the Human Understanding, Essay 7th.— 
[Hume’s philosophical genius was of a very superior order. Justice 
was never done to it by his contemporaries, nor has it since been 
done in the general estimation of the English. In logical force, 
acuteness, and at the same time clearness and elegance of mind, he 
had few equals. His philosophical skepticism was the consistent 
result of the principles at that time almost universally adopted. The 
difference between himself and his contemporaries and opposers, was 
only that he was more acute and consequent than they. In the first 
place, he clearly and fully established the essential difference of the>. 
notions of succession and causation, notions which Locke had con - 
founded for the sake of his system, and which every body continued 
4 to confound.—1. Hume showed that the conception of cause, and of t 
the relation of cause and effect, could not be resolved into, or ex¬ 
plained by, the notion of succession : they were two distinct and dif¬ 
ferent conceptions. 2. He proved, beyond contradiction, that the ^ 
idea of cause and effect is not derived from experience, either exter¬ 
nal or internal, from sensation or from reflection ; but 3. He still 
continued to hold, and seems not to have suspected the questionable¬ 
ness of, the grounding principle of Locke’s system, that all our real 
knowledge must be derived from experience. Hence, 4. He was 
consistently led to deny the truth, the objective reality of the relation ✓ 
of cause and effect. He therefore explained it as a delusion of the 

L 


110 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


c theory of Locke concerning the origin of the idea of cause 
from sensation. 

But this is not all. Not only is there in the human 
mind the idea of cause ; not only do we believe ourselves 
«/to be the causes of our own acts, and that certain bodies 
are often the cause of the movement of other bodies; but 
we judge in a general manner that no phenomenon can 
begin to exist, whether in space or in time, without having 
a cause. There is here something more than an idea ; 
v there is a principle; and the principle is as uncontrovertible 
as the idea. Imagine a movement, any change, whatever, 
and the moment you conceive of this change, this move¬ 
ment, you cannot help supposing that it w r as made in 
v virtue of some cause. It is not our object to inquire what 
this cause is, what its nature, or how it produced such a 
change; the only question is, whether the human mind can 
conceive of a change, a movement without conceiving that 
it is produced by virtue of a cause. Here is the foundation 
of human curiosity, which seeks for a cause for every 
phenomenon, and of the judicial action of society, which 
intervenes as soon as any phenomenon appears in which 
society is concerned. An assassination, a murder, a theft, 

imagination, the result of association and habit; as a very useful 
idea t having a subjective necessity and reality, (being held, that is 
by us, as true,) but having no objective reality, no reality but to us. 

Thus, Hume, for want of elucidation on the third point, remained 
a skeptic. His opponents, Beattie, Oswald, and Priestley, were en¬ 
tirely unable to shed any light upon the subject; for they equally 
failed in perceiving the point to which criticism should have been 
directed. 

But Kant, struck with the truth and profoundness of Hume’s 
analysis and discrimination of the idea of succession and cause, and 
the impossibility of deriving the latter from experience, was led 
directly to question the grounding principle of Locke’s system, and 
thus to discern a way of avoiding the sceptical conclusion of Hume. 
Upon investigation, he perceived that the idea of cause and effect 
was not the only one that is applied, to experience, with the conscious¬ 
ness of its necessity, yet without being derived from experience. 
Hence, the very first position of his Critique of Pure Reason is, that 
we are in possession of knowledge, a priori-, and the first sentence 
of his work contains the annunciation of the important distinction, 
that although all our knowledge begins with experience, yet it is not 
therefore all derived from experience.—T r.] 


ELEMENTS OP PSYCHOLOGY. 


Ill 


any phenomenon which falls within the scope of the Law, 
being given ; an author of it is instantly presumed a thief; 
a murderer, or an assassin, is presumed, and an inquisition 
is made ; nothing of which would be done, if it was not a 
decided impossibility for the human mind not to conceive 
of a cause wherever there is a phenomenon which begins 
to exist. Observe, I do not say there is no effect without 
a cause, for evidently this is a frivolous proposition, of 
which one term involves the other, and expresses the same 
idea in a different manner. The word effect being relative 
to the word cause, to say that the effect supposes the cause 
is to say nothing but that the effect is an effect. But 
we do not make an identical or frivolous proposition, when 
we say that every^hfinomenon which begins to exist neces¬ 
sarily has a cause. The two terms of this proposition; 
commencing phenomenon, and cause, do not reciprocally 
contain each other; they are not identical; and yet the 
human mind decides and puts a necessary connection, 
between them. This is what we call the principle of cau¬ 
sality. 

This principle is real, certain, undeniable. What now 
are its attributes ? First, then, it is universal. Is there 
a human being, a savage, a child, an idiot# even, provided 
he is not entirely one, who, in the case of a phenomenon 
beginning to exist, does not instantly suppose a cause of it ? 
True, indeed, if no phenomenon is given, if we have not 
the idea of some change, we do not suppose, we cannot' 
suppose, a cause; for where neither term is known, what 
relation can be apprehended ? But it is in fact, that in 
this case a single term being given, the supposition of the 
other, and of their relation is involved, and that universally.. 
There is not a single case in which we do not thus judge. 

Still more: not only do we thus decide in all cases, 
naturally and in the instinctive exercise of our under¬ 
standing ; but to decide otherwise is impossible ; a 
phenomenon being given, endeavour to suppose there is no 
cause of it. You cannot. The principle, then, is not only 
_... universal: it is dho necesjary. From whence I conclude 
it is not derived from the senses. For even if it should 
be granted that the senses might give the universal, it is 
L 2 



:12 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


evident that they cannot give the necessary. For the 
senses give that which appears or even that which is, such 
as it is or appears, phenomena with their incidental charac¬ 
teristics : but it is repugnant to suppose that they can 
give that which ought to be, the reason of a phenomenon, 
still less its necessary reason. 

It is so far from being true, that the sense and the external 
world give us the principle of causality, that were it not 
for the intervention of this principle, the external world 
from which Locke derives it, would have for us no existence. 
In fact, suppose that a phenomenon could begin to appear 
in time or in space without your being necessarily led to 
suppose a cause. When a phenomenon of sensation 
appeared under the eye of consciousness, not conceiving or 
supposing a cause for this phenomenon, you would not 
seek for anything to which to refer it; you would rest in 
the phenomenon itself, that is, in a simple phenomenon 
of consciousness, that is, again, in a modification of your¬ 
selves ; you would not go out of yourselves. You would 
never attain the external w T orld. For what is it that is 
necessary in order for you to attain the external w r orhl 
and suspect its existence ? It is necessary that, a 
sensation being given, you should be forced to ask your¬ 
selves, what is the cause of this new phenomenon, and 
also that under the two-fold impossibility of referring it to 
yourselves and of not referring it to some cause, you are 
forced to refer to a cause other than yourselves, to a foreign 
cause, to an external cause. The idea of an external cause of 
our sensations is, then, the fundamental idea of a without, 
of outward objects, of bodies, and of the rvorld. I do not 
say that the world, bodies, external objects, are nothing 
more than a cause of certain sensations in us; but I say 
that at first they are given us as causes of our sensations, 
under this condition, and by this title. Afterwards, or, if 
you please, at the same time, we add to this property of 
objects other properties still. But it is upon this, that all 
the others which we subsequently learn, are founded. 
Take away the principle of causality, the sensation remains 
under the eye of consciousness, and reveals to us only its 
relation to the self, the me which experiences it, without 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 113 

' revealing to us that which produced it, the not-self ’ the 
not-me, external objects, the world. It is commonly said, 
and philosophers even join with the vulgar in saying, that 
the senses discover the world to us. This is right, if it is 
meant merely to say, that without the senses, without 
sensation, without the previous phenomenon, the principle 
of causality would lack the basis [the condition, the occa- 
sion] for attaining external causes, so that we should never 
conceive the world. But we are completely deceived, if\ 
we understand that it is the senses themselves, directly and 
by their own force, without the intervention of the reason, 
or any foreign principle, which make us acquainted with 
the external world. To know in general, to know without 
regard to any particular object, is beyond the reach of the 
senses. It is the reason, and the reason alone, which 
knows, and which knows the world ; and it does not know 
the world at first but in the character of a cau se. It is for 
us, primarily, nothing but the cause of the sensitive phe¬ 
nomena which we cannot refer to ourselves; and we should 
not search for this cause, and consequently should not find 
it, if our reason were not provided with the principle of — 
causality, if we could suppose that a phenomenon might 
begin to appear on the theatre of consciousness, of time or 
of space, without having a cause. The principle of causality * 
then, I am not afraid to say, is the father of the external 
world ; instead of its being possible to deduce it from the 
world and make it come from sensation. When we speak 
of external objects and of the world, without previously 
admitting the principle of causality, either we know not 
what we affirm, or we are guilty of a paralogism. 

The result of this whole discussion is : that if the question 
be about the idea of cause, we cannot find it in the suc¬ 
cession of outward and sensible phenomena; that succession 
is the condition, [the necessary occasion] of the conception 
of cause, its chronological antecedent, but not its principle 
and its logical reason: If the question be, not merely about 
the idea of cause, but concerning the principle of causality, 
this principle still more escapes from every attempt to 
explain it by succession and sensation.—In the first case, 
in regard to the idea of cause, Locke confounds the ante- 
l 3 


114 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


cedent of an idea with the idea itself; and in the second 
case, in regard to the principle of causality, he derives from 
the phenomena of the outward world precisely the principle 
without which there would be for us no outward, no world. / 
He takes for granted the very thing in question. He no 
longer confounds the antecedent with the consequent, but 
the consequent with the antecedent, the consequence with 
Vts principle. For the principle of causality is the necessary 
foundation of even the slightest knowledge of the outward 
—world, of the feeblest suspicion of its existence. To explain 
the principle of causality by the spectacle of the world, 
which can be given only by the principle of causality, is, 

{ as w r e have said, to explain the principle by the consequence. . 
Now the idea of cause and the principle of causality, are 
undeniable facts in the human mind; consequently the 
system of Locke, which obliges him to receive, in their 
stead, merely the idea of succession, of constant succession, 

^ does not account for facts, nor explain the human mind. 

But is there nothing more in Locke on the great question 
of cause ? Has Locke never assigned to the idea of cause 
another origin than sensation P—You are not to expect from 
our philosopher perfect self-consistency. I have already 
told you, and I shall have frequent occasion to repeat it, 
nothing is less consistent than Locke. Contradictions occur 
not only from book to book, in his Essay; but from chapter 
to chapter, and almost from paragraph to paragraph. I 
have already cited the positive passage, (B. II. ch. XXVI.) 
in wdiich Locke derives the idea of cause from sensation. 
Well now, let us turn over a few pages, and w r e shall find 
him forgetting both his fundamental assertion, and the 
particular examples, all physical, produced to justify it; 
and concluding, to the great astonishment of the attentive 
reader, that the idea of cause no longer comes from sen¬ 
sation solely ,Tmt from sensation, or from refection. Ch. 

XXVI. $ 2.-“ In which and all other cases, w T e may 

observe that the notion of cause and effect has its rise from 
sensation or reflection; and that this relation, how com¬ 
prehensive soever, terminates at last in them.” This “or” 
is, now, nothing less than a new theory. Hitherto Locke 
had not said a w T ord about reflection. It is an evident 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


115 


contradiction to the passage I have before cited. But is this 
contradiction thrown in here at hazard, and afterward aban¬ 
doned and lost ? In regard to the twenty-sixth chapter, 
the answer is, yes ; in regard to the entire work, no. •/ Bead 
another chapter of this same second Book, Chapter XXI., 
On Power. At the bottom, a chapter on power is a chapter 
on cause. For what is power, but the power to produce 
something, that is, a cause P* To treat of power, then, is 
to treat of cause. Now what is the origin of the idea of 
power, according to Locke, in the chapter expressly devoted 
to this inquiry ? It is, as in chapter twenty-sixth, at once 
' sensation and reflection. 

B. II. ch. XXI. “ Of Power. § 1. This idea how got.” 

“ The mind being every day informed, by the senses, of the 
alteration of those simple ideas, it observes in things with¬ 
out, and taking notice how one comes to an end, and ceases 
to be, and another begins to exist which was not before 5 
reflecting also on what passes within itself, and observing 
a constant change of its ideas, sometimes by the impression 
of outward objects on the senses, and sometimes by the 
determination of its own choice; and concluding, from what 
it has so constantly observed to have been, that the like 
changes will for the future by made in the same things by 
like agents, and by like ways; considers in one thing the 
possibility of having any of its simple ideas changed, and 
in another the possibility of making that change; and so 
comes by that idea which we call power.’’ 

Of these two origins, I have demonstrated that the first, 
namely sensation, is insufficient to account for the idea of 
cause, that is to say, of power. It remains, then, to ex¬ 
amine the second origin. But this second origin, does it 
precede, or follow the first ? We derive, according to Locke, 
the idea of cause, both from sensation, and from reflection. ' 
But from which of these do we derive it first ? It is one 
z^bf the eminent merits of Locke, as I have before noted, 
that he has shown in the question concerning time, that 
the first succession which reveals to us the idea of time, is 
not the succession of external events, but the succession of 

* The famous Essay of Hume on cause is entitled, Of the Idea of 
Power. 


116 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


our own thoughts. Here Locke equally says that it is from 
the internal and not from the external, in reflection and 
not in sensation, that the idea of power is first given. It 
is a manifest contradiction, I grant, with his official chapter 
on cause; but it is to the honour of Locke to have seen and 
established, even in contradiction to himself, that it is in re¬ 
flection, in the consciousness of our own operations, the first, 
and clear idea of cause is given. I wish to cite tills passage 
entire; for it evinces a true talent for observation, and a 
rare psychological sagacity. 

B. II. ch. XXI. § 4. “ The clearest idea of active power had 
from spirit .”—“If we will consider it attentively, bodies 
by our senses, do not afford us so clear and distinct an 
idea of active power, as we have from reflection on the 
operations of our own minds. For all power relating to 
action, and there being but two sorts of action whereof we 
have any idea, namely, thinking and motion; let us consider 
whence we have the clearest ideas of the powers which 
produce these actions. 1. Of thinking, body affords us no 
idea at all, it is only from reflection that we have that. 
2. Neither have we from body any idea of the beginning 
of motion. A body at rest affords us no idea of any active 
power to move; and when it is set in motion itself, that 
motion is rather a passion, than an action in it. For when 
the ball obeys the stroke of a billiard stick, it is not any 
action of the ball, but bare passion ; also when by impulse it 
sets another ball in motion that lay in its way, it only com¬ 
municates the motion it had received from another, and loses 
in itself so much as the other received; which gives us but 
a very obscure idea of an active power moving in body, 
whilst we observe it only to transfer, but not to produce any 
motion. For it is but a very obscure idea of power which 
reaches not the production of the action, but the continua¬ 
tion of the passion. For so is motion, in a body impelled by 
another : the continuation of the alteration made in it from 
rest to motion, being little more an action, than the con¬ 
tinuation of the alteration of its figure by the same blow, 
is an action. The idea of the beginning of motion, we have 
only from reflection on what passes in ourselves, where we 
find by experience, that barely by willing it, barely by a 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


117 


thought of the mind, we can move the parts of our bodies, 
which were before at rest. So that it seems to me, we have 
from the observation of the operation of bodies by our senses, 
but a very imperfect, obscure idea of active power, since 
they afford us not any idea of power in themselves to begin 
any action, either motion or thought.” 

/ Locke seems to have felt indeed that he contradicted him¬ 
self ; so he adds : “ But if, from the impulse, bodies are ob¬ 
served to make one upon another, any one thinks he has a 
clear idea of power, it serves as well to my purpose, sensa¬ 
tion being one of these ways whereby the mind comes by its 
ideas : only I thought it worth while to consider here by the 
way, whether the mind doth not receive its idea of active 
power clearer from reflection on its own operations, than it 
doth from any external sensation.” 

* Now this power of action, of which we have from reflection 
that distinct idea which sensation alone could not give us, 
what is it ? It is that of the will. 

B. II. ch. XXL § 5. “ This at least, J think evident, 
that we find in ourselves a power to begin or forbear, con¬ 
tinue or end several actions of our minds, and motions of 
our bodies, barely by a thought or preference of the mind 
ordering, or as it were, commanding the doing or not doing 
such or such a particular action. This power which the 
mind has thus to order the consideration of any idea, or 
the forbearing to consider it; or to prefer the motion of any 
part of the body to its rest, and vice versa in any particular 
instance, is that which we call the mil. The actual ex¬ 
ercise of that power, by directing any particular action, or 
its forbearance, is that which we call willing, or volition. 
/The forbearance of that action, consequent to such order or 
command of the mind, is called voluntary; and whatsoever 
action is performed without such a thought of the mind is 
called involuntary. 

We have here, then, the will considered as an active power, 
as a productive energy, and consequently as a cause. This 
is the germ of the beautiful theory of M. de Biran, concern¬ 
ing the origin of the idea of cause. According to M. de w 
Biran, as according to Locke, the idea^ofcause is not given 
us in the observation of external phenomena, which regard- 


118 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


ed solely by the senses, do not manifest to us any causative 
energy, and appear only as successive; but it is given from 
within, in reflection, in the consciousness of our operations, 
and of the power which produces them, namely the will. 
I make an effort to move my arm; and I move it. When 
we analyze attentively this phenomenon of effort, which 
M. de Biran considers as the type of the phenomena of the 
will, we have the following elements: 1, the consciousness 
of a voluntary act; 2, the consciousness of a motion pro¬ 
duced : 3, a relation, a reference of the motion to the 
voluntary act. And what is this relation ? Evidently it is 
not a simple relation of succession. Repeat in yourselves 
the phenomena of effort, and you will find that you all with 
perfect conviction attribute the production of the motion of 
which you are conscious, to a previous voluntary operation 
of which you are also conscious. Eor you, the will is not 
merely a pure act, without efficiency; it is a productive 
energy, in such sort, that, in it is given the idea of a cause. 

Still more. This motion, of which you are conscious, 
which you all refer, as an effect, to the previous operation 
of the will, as the producing operation, the cause,—do' you, 
I ask, refer this motion to any other will than your own ? 
Do you, or could you, consider this will as the will of an¬ 
other, as the will of your neighbour, of Alexander, or Caesar 
or of any superior or foreign power ? Or, for you, is it not 
your own ? Do you not always impute every voluntary 
act to yourselves P It is not, in a word, from the conscious¬ 
ness of your will, as your own, that you derive the idea 
of your personality, the idea of yourselves. The distin¬ 
guishing merit of M. de Biran is in having established that 
the will is the constituent characteristic of personality. He 
has gone further—too far perhaps. As Locke confounded 
v consciousness and memory with personality and identity of 
self, M. de Biran has gone even so far as to confound the 
will with personality itself. It is certainly the eminent 
characteristic of it; and from hence it follows, that the 
' idea of cause, which unquestionably is given in the con¬ 
sciousness of the producing will, is given by it in the con¬ 
sciousness of our own personality, and that we ourselves 
are the first cause of which we have any knowledge. 

t/ O 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


119 


In short, this cause, which is ourselves, is implied in 
every fact of consciousness. The necessary condition of 
v every phenomenon perceived by the consciousness, is that 
we pay attention to it. If we do not bestow our attention, 
the phenomenon may perhaps still exist, but the conscious¬ 
ness not connecting itself with it, and not taking know¬ 
ledge of it, it is for us a non-existence. Attention then is/ 
the condition of every apperception of consciousness. Now 
attention, as I have more than once shown, is the will. • 
The condition, then, of every phenomenon of consciousness, 
and of course of the first phenomenon, as of all others, is 
the will; and as the will is a causative power, it follows 
that in the first fact of consciousness, and in order that 
this fact may take place, there must necessarily be the ap¬ 
perception of our personal causality in the will; from 
whence it follows again that the idea of cause is the primary* 
idea; that the apperception of ourselves is the first of all 
apperceptions ; and the condition of all the others. 

Such is the theory which M. de Biran has raised upon 
that of Locke. * I adopt it. I believe that it perfectly 
accounts for the origin of the idea of cause. But it re¬ 
mains to inquire whether the idea of cause springing from 
this origin and from the sentiment of voluntary and personal 
activity, suffices to explain the idea which all men have of. 
external causes, and to explain the principle of causality. ✓ 
For Locke, who treats of the idea of cause, but never of 
the principle of causality, the problem did not even exist. 
M. de Biran, who scarcely proposes it, resolves it by far 
too rapidly, and arrives at once to a result which sound 
psychology and sound logic cannot accept. 

According to M. de Biran, after we have derived the idea 
of cause from the sentiment of our own personal activity >• 
in the phenomena of effort, of which we are conscious, we 
transfer this idea outwardly ; we project it into the external 
world, by virtue of an operation which, with Boyer-Collard, 
he has called natural induction .f Let us understand. If 

* See Laromiguiere’s Leqonsde Philosophic, and also M. de Biran’s 
Examen des Leqons de M. Laromiguidre, Ch. 8. p. 140—152. 

f M. de Biran’s Examen, p. 109—151 ;—also M. de Biran’s Ar¬ 
ticle, entitled Leibnitz in the Biographie Universelle ; also the Frag¬ 
ments of M. Royer-Collard in Jouffrotfs Reid, Vols. III. IV. 


120 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


by this, M. de Biran means merely that before knowing 
external causes of any kind, we first derive the idea of cause — 
from ourselves, I grant it. But I deny that the knowledge 
which we have of external causes is a transferral, a pro¬ 
jection, an induction of ours. In fact this induction could 
not take place but under conditions which are in manifest 
contradiction with facts and reason. I request here all 
your attention. 

According to Locke and to M de Biran, it is reflection, 
l consciousness, which gives us the first idea of cause. But 
what idea of cause does it give us ? I answer and wish it to 
— be specially noticed, that it gives us, not the idea of cause 
in the abstract, in general, but the idea of a 
which wills ; and which, by willing, produces; and thereby 
is a cause. The idea of cause which consciousness gives 
us is then, an idea altogether particular, individual and 
determinate, since it is to us altogether personal. Every¬ 
thing which we know of cause by consciousness, is concen- 
trated in personality. It is this personality, and in this 
personality the will, and the will alone, which is the power, 
the cause, revealed in consciousness. This being laid down, 
let us next see what are the conditions of induction. In-; 
duction is the supposition that in certain circumstances, a 
phenomenon, a law, having been given us, the same pheno¬ 
menon, the same law, will take place in analogous cases. 
Induction then implies : 1, the supposition of analogous 
cases, that is, of cases more or less different; 2, the supposi¬ 
tion of a phenomenon which is to continue to take place the 
same in both cases. Induction is the process of the mind 
which having hitherto observed a phenomenon only in 
certain cases, transfers this phenomenon—this phenomenon, 
observe, and not another, that is the same phenomenon— 
to different cases, cases necessarily different, since they are 
only analogous and similar, and cannot be absolutely iden¬ 
tical. The character of induction then is precisely in the 
contrast of the identity of the phenomenon or law, and of 
the diversity of the circumstances from which it is first 
derived and then transferred. If, then, the knowledge of 
external causes is only an induction from our own personal 
cause, it is in strictness our causality, the voluntary and 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


121 


free cause which ourselves constitute, that should be trans¬ 
ferred by induction into the external world; that is to say, 
whenever any motion or change begins to appear in time 
or in space, there we must suppose, not a cause in general, 
for bear in mind that we are not possessed of the general 
idea of cause, we have only the idea of our own personal 
^ casuality. We can only suppose what we already have, 
otherwise it would no longer be the proper and legitimate 
process of induction. We shall be led to suppose, then, 
not the abstract and general idea of cause, but the particular 
; and determinate idea of a particular and determinate cause, 
,to wit, ourselves. From whence it follows that it is our 
own casuality we should be obliged to suppose wherever a 
phenomenon begins to appear : that is to say, all causes 
subsequently conceived by us, are and can be nothing but 
our own personality, the sole and only cause of all the 
effects, accidents or events, which begins to appear. And 
bear in mind, that the belief in the external world and in 
external causes, is universal and necessary. All men have 
it; all men cannot but have it. As soon as any pheno¬ 
menon begins to appear, all men believe, think, judge, that 
there are external causes present, and they cannot but so 
judge. If, then, induction explains, our whole idea of 
external causes, this induction must be universal and neces¬ 
sary. It must be, that is, an universal and necessary fact^ 
that we believe ourselves to be the cause of all the events, 
movements and changes which take place, or can take 
place. 

Thus in strictness, the induction, the transfer of our own 
causality without ourselves, is nothing but the substitution 
of human liberty for destiny, and perhaps strictly the crea- 
: tion of the world by humanity. If we do not carry it 
this length, we misconceive the true nature and extent of 
induction; and I urge this consequence upon the system 
of M. de Biran as its legitimate and necessary consequence.^ 

My excellent friend would undoubtedly resist this conse¬ 
quence as forced and exaggerated; but there is one which 
he would be forced to accept, and which he does almost 
accept. V If external causes are nothing but an induction ✓ 
from our own casual power, and if nevertheless we are un- 
M 


122 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


willing to allow that they are our very selves, it must at 
least be conceded that they are of the same kind as our¬ 
selves ; if they are not our own, they are as our own—per¬ 
sonal, conscious, voluntary, intentional, free, living, and 
living the same life with us, intellectual and moral. In fact, 
without pretending that this is our whole conception of 
external causes, M. de Biran maintains that such is the 
'conception which we form of them at first. And he gives 
in proof of it that children, and savages, who are but grown 
children, conceive of all external causes after the model of 
their own causal power; that hence the child is angry at 
the stone which hurt him, as if it had the intention of hurt¬ 
ing him; and the savage personifies and deifies the cause 
of external phenomena. 

To this I reply : we are not to forget that the belief in 
the external world and in external causes, is universal and 
necessary; and that the fact which explains it ought itself 
to be universal and necessary. Hence it follows, that if 
our belief in the outward world and in external causes re¬ 
solves itself into the assimilation of these causes to ourselves, 
this assimilation ought likewise to be universal and neces¬ 
sary. Now at this point I have recourse to psychology ; 
I recur to it to determine whether all intellectual and moral 
beings conceive of external causes as animated and con¬ 
scious. I look to psychology, and require it to prove that 
this opinion of children and of savages, is not only a fre¬ 
quent fact, but an universal fact; that there is not a child 
nor a savage, who does not at first form this conception. 
And it must prove also that this is not only universal, but 
necessary. Now the character of a necessary fact is, that 
it continues without ceasing; the necessity of an idea, of a 
law, implies the supremacy of that idea, that law, through¬ 
out the whole extent of duration, as long as the human 
mind subsists. Now, even if I should grant that all chil¬ 
dren and all savages believe at first that external causes are 
living, free, and personal; this would not be a necessary 
fact; for it is not an opinion which continues, which sub¬ 
sists always. We do not now believe it. It is to our credit 
that we do not. That which [by the theory in question] 
should be a necessary truth, reproduced from age to age 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


123 


without exception or alteration, is for us simply an extrava¬ 
gance which exists for a short period, and then passes away 
never to return. From the fact that this supposed induc¬ 
tion has languished for a single day, from this alone, we are 
forced to conclude that it is not an universal and necessary 
law of the human mind ; and of course it does not explain 
the universal and necessary belief in the existence of the 
world and of external causes. 

v We all have, we cannot but have, a perfect conviction 
that the world exists, that there are external causes. These 
causes we believe to be neither personal, nor intentional 
and voluntary. This is the belief of the human race. It 
is the province of the philosopher to explain it, without 
destroying or impairing it. Now if this belief is universal 
and necessary, the judgment which includes it and which 
gives it, ought to have a principle which is itself universal 
and necessary ; and this principle is nothing else than the * 
principle of causality, a principle now-a-days expressed in 
Logic under this form : every phenomenon, every change, 
which begins to appear, has a cause. This principle is 
universal and necessary, and because it is so, it imparts to 
our belief in the existence of the world and of external 
causes, the character of universality and necessity by which 
it is itself marked. Take away this principle, and leave the 
mere consciousness of our personal causality, and never 
should we have the least idea of external causes and of the' 7 
world. In fact, take away the principle of causality, and 
whenever a phenomenon appeared upon the theatre of con- 
v sciousness, of which we were not the cause, there would no - 
longer be a ground for our demanding a cause for the phe¬ 
nomenon. We should not seek for a cause, Tor observe, 
that even in order to the induction we have been speaking 
of; even in order for us to fall into the absurdity of assign¬ 
ing to the sensation as its cause, either ourselves, or some¬ 
thing like ourselves; it is necessary to feel the need of / 
assigning causes for every phenomenon ; and in order to 
make this induction universal and necessary, this feeling of 
need must be universal and necessary ; in short, we must 
have the principle of causality. Thus, without the principle 
of causality, every phenomenon is for us without cause, [and 
M 2 


124 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

without the notion of cause,] so that we cannot even attri¬ 
bute it to an extravagant cause. But on the contrary, 
assume the principle of causality [as potentially existing 
in the mind,] and as soon as a phenomenon of sensation 
begins to appear on the theatre of consciousness, at the 
same instant, the principle of causality [actually un¬ 
folded and put in exercise by the occasion of the phe¬ 
nomenon,] marks it with this character: that it can¬ 
not but have a cause. Now, as consciousness attests 
that this cause is not ourselves, and yet it remains not less 
certain that it must have a cause, it follows that there is a 
cause other than ourselves, and which is neither personal 
nor voluntary, and yet is a cause, that is to say, a cause 
‘simply efficient. Now this is precisely the idea which all 
men form of external causes. They consider them as- 
capable of producing the motions which they refer to them, 

• but not as intentional and personal causes. The universal 
and necessary principle of causality, is the only principle 
which can give us such causes ; it is, then, the true and - 
legitimate process of the human mind in the acquisition of 
the idea of the world and of external causes. 

Having now demonstrated that our belief in external 
causes is not an induction from the consciousness of our 
I own personal cause, but a legitimate application of the 
' principle of causality, it remains to learn how we pass from 
the consciousness of our own particular causality to the 
conception of the general principle of causality. 

I admit, I am decidedly of opinion, that the conscious¬ 
ness of our own proper causality precedes any conception 
of the principle of causality, and of course precedes any 
application of this principle, any knowledge of external cau¬ 
sality. In my judgment, the process by which, in the 
depths of the mind, the passage is made from the primary 
fact of consciousness to the ulterior fact of the conception 
of the principle, is this. I wish to move my arm, and I 
move it. We have seen that this fact when analysed, gives 
three elements : 1, consciousness of a volition which is my 
own, which is personal; 2, a motion produced ; 3, and 
finally, a reference of this motion to my will, a relation 
which as we have seen, is a relation of production, of cau- 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


125 


sation ; a relation, too, which I no more call in question, 
than I do either of the two other terms; which is not given 
me without those two terms, and without which the terms 
are not given ; so that the three terms are given in one 
single and even indivisible fact. Now what is the charac¬ 
ter of this fact ? It is characterized by being particular, 
individual, determinate, and for this very simple reason, ~ 
- that the fact is altogether personal. This producing will is - 
my own, and of course it is a will particular and determinate.— 
Again, it is characteristic of everything particular and deter¬ 
minate, to be susceptible of the degrees of more or less, 1 
myself, a voluntary cause, have at such a moment more or 
less energy, which makes the motion produced by me reflect 
it more or less, with more or less force. A little while ago, 
the causative power exerted, had such a degree of force, the 
motion produced had a corresponding degree; now again, 
the causative power has less energy, and the motion pro¬ 
duced is more feeble ; but does this last motion pertain less 
to me than the former ? Is there between the cause, myself, 
and the etfect, motion, any the less a relation in the one case 
than in the other ? Not at all; the two terms may vary, and 
do vary perpetually, but the relation does not vary. Still 
further : not only the individuality, the determinateness of 
the fact, if you will permit the expression, may vary, that 
is, the two particular terms may not only vary, but they 
may be altogether others ; they may even not exist at all. 
It is supposable that I may not exist; that I am not a 
cause; that I have not produced a motion. The two terms, 
in so far as they are determinate, are susceptible of the 
attributes of more or less, and are purely accidental; but 
the relation between these two determinate, variable, and 
contingent terms, is itself neither variable, nor contingent. 
It is the universal and necessary part of the fact. Now 
the moment the consciousness seizes these two terms, the 
reason seizes their relation, and by an abstraction which 
needs not the support of a great number of similar facts, it 
disengages the invariable and necessary element of the fact, 
from its variable and contingent elements. Make the 
attempt to call this relation in question. You cannot ; 

. no human intelligence can succeed in the attempt. Whence 
m 3 


126 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


it follows, that this truth is an universal and necessary 
truth. Reason, then, is subjected to this truth. It is 
under an impossibility of not supposing a cause, whenever 
the senses or the consciousness reveal any motion, any 
phenomenon. Now this impossibility, to which reason is 
subjected, of not supposing a cause for every phenomenon 
revealed in sense and consciousness, is what we call the 
principle of causality : not, indeed, in its actual logical for¬ 
mula, but in its internal primitive energy. The impossi- f 
bility for us of not conceiving a cause, in every case in 
which we observe the appearance of a phenomenon, external 
or internal, beginning to exist, is what we call the principle 
of causality [subjectively]. If it be asked, how the univer¬ 
sal and the necessary are found in the relative and the 
contingent, I reply that along with the Will and the Senses, ' 
there is also the faculty of the Reason, and that it is deve¬ 
loped simultaneously with the former. 

What has just been said of the principle of causality, may 
be said of all the other principles. It is a fact which should 
not be forgotten, though it very often is, that our judg¬ 
ments are all at first particular and determinate, and that 
under this form of a particular and determinate judgment, 
all universal and necessary truths, all universal and neces¬ 
sary principles, make tneir first appearance. Thus the senses 
attest to me the existence of a body, and at the instant I 
judge that this body is in space, not in space in general, 
not in pure space, but in a certain space; it is a certain 
body which my senses attest, and it is in a certain, space 
that reason locates it. Then when we reflect upon the 
relation between this particular body and this particular 
space, we find that the relation itself is not particular, but 
universal and necessary; and when we attempt to conceive 
of a body without any space whatever, we find that we 
cannot. So also it is in regard to time. When our con¬ 
sciousness or our senses, give us any succession of events 
or of thoughts, we instantly judge that this succession 
passes in a determinate time. Everything in time and suc¬ 
cession, as they are in the primitive facts of sensation or 
of consciousness, is determinate. The question is of such 
or such a particular succession, an hour, a day, a year, etc. 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


127 


But that which is not determined and special, is the relation 
between this succession and this time. We may vary the 
two terms ; we may vary the succession, and the time 
which embraces the succession ; but the relation of suc¬ 
cession to time does not vary.* Again it is in the same 
way that the principle of substance is given us. When a 
phenomenon takes place on the theatre of my consciousness, 
it is a particular and determinate phenomenon; and accord¬ 
ingly I judge, that under this particular phenomenon, is 
a being which is the subject of it ; not a being in the 
abstract and general, but actual and determinate, to wit, 
myself. All our primitive judgments are personal and de¬ 
terminate, and yet under the depths of these personal and 
determinate judgments, there are already relations, truths, 
principles, which are not personal and determinate, al¬ 
though they do determine and individualize themselves in 
the determination and individuality of their terms. Such 
is the first form of the truths of Geometry and Arithmetic. 
Take, for example, two objects, and two more objects. Heie 
all is determinate; the quantities to be added are concrete, 
not discrete. You judge that these two, and these two 
objects, make four objects. Now, what is to be noted in 
this judgment ? Here again, as before, everything is con¬ 
tingent and variable, except the relation. You can vary 
the objects ; you can put pebbles in the place of these 
books, or hats in the place of the pebbles ; and the relation 
will remain unchanged and invariable. Still further: why 
do you judge that these two determinate objects added to 
these two other determinate objects make four determi¬ 
nate objects P Reflect. It is in virtue of this truth, namely, 
that two and two make four. Now, this truth of relation 

♦TFor illustration, suppose a hundred revolutions of a wheel in a 
hundred minutes. You can then vary the two terms (one hundred 
revolutions, and one hundred minutes) in any way you please. For 
example, varying the second term, you can suppose the hundred 
revolutions to take place in five or ten or a thousand minutes, or, vary¬ 
ing the first term, you can suppose five revolutions, or ten, or a 
thousand, made in the hundred minutes, or, varying both terms 
you can suppose sixty revolutions in sixty seconds, etc.,—but the 
relation of this succession to time, to some time, is not variable.— 
Tit.] 


128 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


is altogether independent of the nature of the two concrete 
terms, whatever they may be. It is an abstract truth, 
involved and hidden in the concrete, which leads you to 
pronounce concerning the concrete, that two concrete ob¬ 
jects added to two concrete objects, make four concrete 
objects. The abstract is given in the concrete ; the inva-i 
riable and the necessary in the variable and contingent 
t the reason in sensation and consciousness. The senses attest 
the existence of concrete quantities and of bodies ; con¬ 
sciousness, the internal sense, attests the presence of a 
succession of thoughts and of all the phenomena which 
pertain to personal identity. But at the same time, reason 
intervenes and pronounces that the relations of the quantities 
in question are abstract, universal, and necessary. Reason 
pronounces that the relation of body to space is necessary ; 
that the relation between succession and time is a necessary 
relation ; that the relation between the phenomenal plurality 
formed by the thoughts in consciousness, and that sub¬ 
stance, one and identical which is at once the self, is a 
necessary relation. Thus in the birth-place of intelligence, 
the action of the senses and of consciousness is blended 
with that of reason. The senses and consciousness give 
the phenomena external and internal, the variable, the con¬ 
tingent ; reason gives us the universal and necessary truths 
blended with the accidental and contingent truths which 
result directly from the apperception of the internal or exter¬ 
nal phenomena ; and these universal and necessary truths 
constitute universal and necessary principles.—Now'it is 
with the principle of causality as with other principles. 
Never would the human mind have conceived it in its uni¬ 
versality and its necessity, if first there had not been given 
us a particular fact of causation. This primitive particular 
fact is that of our own proper and personal causality, mani¬ 
fested to the consciousness in an effort, in a voluntary act. I 
But this does not suffice of itself wholly to explain the 
knowledge of external causes, because then we should have 
to regard external causes as only an induction from our 
own causality, that is to say, we should have to resolve the 
faith of the human race into an absurdity, and that a tran¬ 
sient absurdity, which experience exposes, and which is 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


129 


now-a-days abandoned. Tliis explanation, then, is inad¬ 
missible. It is necessary, then, to conceive that in the 
contingent and particular fact—I will to move my arm, and 
I move it —there is a relation of the motion as an effect to 
the volition as a cause, which relation, independent of the 
nature of the two terms, is seized immediately by the reason 
as an universal and necessary truth. From hence the 
principle of causality ; and then with this principle, and 
only then, can we attain to external causes ; because the 
principle is broader than the limits of consciousness, and 
with it we can judge universally and necessarily that every 
phenomenon, of whatever kind, has a cause. Thus armed, 
so to say, let a new phenomenon present itself, and we refer 
it universally and necessarily to a cause ; and that cause 
not being ourselves, our consciousness bearing witness, we 
do not any the less necessarily and universally judge that 
a cause exists ; we only judge that it is other than our¬ 
selves, that it is foreign, external ; and here, to go one step 
further, is the idea of exteriority , and the basis of our con¬ 
viction of the existence of external causes and of the world, 
a conviction universal and necessary, because the principle 
of the judgment which gives us it, is itself universal and 
necessary. 

At the same time that we conceive of external causes, 
foreign to ourselves, other than ourselves, not intentional, 
not voluntary, but pure causes, such as the rigorous appli¬ 
cation of the principle of causality affords,—it is unques¬ 
tionably true, that the child, the savage, the human race in 
its infancy, sometimes, or even frequently, adds to this idea 
of exteriority and of cause purely efficient, the idea of a 
will, of a personality analogous to our own. But obvious¬ 
ly, because this second fact sometimes accompanies the 
first, it does not follow that we are to confound it with the 
first. In order to apprehend the first as a universal and 
necessary fact, this other fact need not be held universal 
and necessary. This I have demonstrated. To do so, 
results in errors and temporary superstitions at the very 
encounter with the permanent and inviolable truth engen¬ 
dered by the principle of causality. But yet the fact of 
this confusion is real; the errors which it involves, though 


130 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


local and temporary, are undeniable. And the explanation 
of them is very simple. The principle of causality, though 
universal and necessary, is given us at first in the contin¬ 
gent fact of the consciousness of our own causality. When, 
then, the principle is brought into exercise, and with its 
own proper characteristics, it at the same time retains, so 
to say, in its first applications, the marks of its origin, and 
the belief in the external world, may for a while, be accom¬ 
panied with some assimilation, more or less vague, of 
external causes to ourselves. Add here, as in all cases, 

( that it is the truth which serves as the basis of the error; 
for this arbitrary and superstitious personification of exter¬ 
nal causes takes upon supposition the existence of external 
causes, that is to say, an application of the principle of 
causality. Induction, then, misleads the principle of 
causality: but so far is induction from constituting the 
principle, that it presupposes the principle. 

Thus it is that sound psychology, determined never to 
abandon the conceptions of the human mind, such as they 
are actually found in the mind, gradually ascends to their 
true origin; while the systematic psychology of Locke, 
burying itself at the outset in the question of the origin of 
our ideas and principles, before having marked with pre¬ 
cision the undoubted characters with which they are actually 
marked ; and not admitting any other origin than sensation'' 
or reflection, believes that it has found the origin of the 
idea of cause in sensation, irn^he simple spectacle of the 
external world. But soon forced'to abandon this origin, 
it has recourse to another, namely, the origin in reflection. ^ 
But this origin, which can indeed give us the idea of a 
voluntary and personal cause, can give us nothing but that 
idea, and not the principle of causality; and of course it 
cannot explain the origin of external purely efficient causes. 
If, however, we determine to rest in this narrow and in¬ 
sufficient origin, to what consequences are we driven ? We 
are obliged to confound two things: the necessary and 
universal result—that we conceive of causes external to 
ourselves, with another fact purely accidental and transi¬ 
tory—that it happened to us to conceive of these causes as 
personal; and thus we are, indeed, enabled to explain the 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


13 L 


knowledge of external causes by a simple induction from 
our own proper causality, and of course to explain the 
principle of causality by reflection or consciousness, that 
is, by one of the two assumed origins of all knowledge. 
But as has been already shown, the conception of external 
causes as personal and endowed with consciousness, is 
nothing but an error found in the infancy of the human 
reason, and not a law of the reason, and by no means 
affords an explanation of the legitimate belief, the univer¬ 
sal and necessary belief of the human race. 

In concluding, I should perhaps ask pardon for the 
length of this discussion; but I owed it, imperfect as it still 
is, both to the importance of the subject, and to the memory 
of the great metaphysician whose very sagacity and pro¬ 
foundness led him astray in the path of Locke. Gifted 
with extraordinary psychological insight, M. de Biran 
penetrated so far into the intimacy of the fact of consciousness 
by which the first idea of cause is given, that he scarcely dis¬ 
engaged himself from that fact and that idea, and neglected 
too much the principle of causality; thus confounding, as 
Locke had done, the antecedent of a principle with the ^ 
principle itself. And when he attempted to explain the 
principle of causality, he explained it by a natural mduction 
which transfers to the external world, consciousness, the 
will, and all the peculiar attributes of his model; confound¬ 
ing in this way a particular, transient, and erroneous 
application of the principle of causality, with the principle 
in itself, the true, universal and necessary principle,—that is 
to say, in fine, confounding by a single error, not only the 
antecedent with the consequent, but also the consequent 
with the antecedent. The theory of M. de Biran is the 
development of the theory of Locke. It reproduces that 
theory with more extent and profoundness, and exhausts 
at once both its merits and its defects. 


[Note. Broions Theory of Cause and Effect .—It will 
be perceived that the discussion contained in the foregoing 
chapter, is a substantial refutation of the doctrine of Brown, 
as exhibited in his Inquiry into the Relation of Cause and 



132 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


Effect. Brown defines the relation to be one of “ imme¬ 
diate and invariable antecedence and consequence.” A 
cause with him is nothing more than “ an immediate and 
invariable antecedent.” This is only another form of resol¬ 
ving causation into succession. In critically examining 
Brown’s theory, the epithets “immediate and invariable” 
may and should be thrown off. For Brown has no right 
to pre-assume that the only difference between causation 
and antecedence is a difference merely of degree, and not of 
kind. If the ideas of antecedence and causation can be 
shown to be essentially different; then no addition of the epi¬ 
thets “ immediate and invariable ” can change or elevate 
the idea of an antecedent into that of a cause.—The only 
proper question, therefore, is whether antecedence and cau¬ 
sation are at the bottom the same idea. 

But this is a position contradicted by consciousness, by 
the usages of all languages, and by everything to which the 
decision of the question can be referred. The necessity and 
universality of the idea of cause prove the contrary of 
Brown’s position. They announce in the notion of cause, 
a higher than a merely empirical character; they prove 
that the mind connects with the phenomena of experience 
something not given by experience. It must therefore be 
regarded as a Law of the mind that we should refer 
things, so far as they are successive phenomena of percep¬ 
tion, to one another in such a manner as that the one 
determines the other in respect to its essence and existence, -k 
A cause not merely precedes, it produces the effect. Con- 
sequently we must suppose an objective connection—a real 
connection out of our minds—answering to the subjective 
connection, or to the concatenation of phenomena in our 
minds. 

If now the question be asked, how Brown came to confound 
antecedence and causation, the answer is not difficult.—It 
is undoubtedly true that the perception of some “ antece- • 
dence ” (some change or succession) is the occasion and 
the necessary condition of the mind forming the notion of 
cause, or of the evolution in the mind of the principle of 
causality : that every phenomenon has a cause. Still it is 
to be noted, that the perception of one single change is 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


133 


sufficient for the development of this universal and ne¬ 
cessary conviction. The moment a change is perceived, the 
principle is developed and put in action, and with it the gene¬ 
ral notion of cause. Consequently Brown’s epithets “ im¬ 
mediate and invariable ” have no validity and no relevancy 
in explaining the origin or nature of the simple idea of v" 
cause; but apply only to the use of the principle of cau¬ 
sality in experience—to the determination of the cause of 
a phenomenon for which the mind necessarily supposes a 
cause, even upon the first perception of it, and without 
any successive observations of “immediate and invariable 
antecedence. ” A single experience is sufficient to awaken 
the principle of causality; which is thenceforward of uni¬ 
versal and necessary application, by the mind, to all phe¬ 
nomena. But in the application of this principle to 
particular phenomena, the mind may err. Several or many 
experiences may be necessary, in order to determine what 
is the precise cause of a given phenomenon. And here it 
is that the consideration of the immediateness and inva¬ 
riableness of a particular sequence comes in as the result of 
experience, as that which is phenomenal , and determines us 
to the application of the idea of cause to the particular 
antecedent in question. 

This distinction Brown seems to have failed to perceive; 
indeed, he seems to have no distinct idea of the principle ' 
of causality; and everything plausible and true in his an¬ 
alysis of the notion of cause into that of u immediate and 
invariable antecedence,” applies merely to the ulterior 
question concerning the particular cause in a given pheno¬ 
menon, or to the application of the necessary idea of cause 
and the principle of causality to particular phenomena. It 
seems, however, not once to have occurred to Brown, that 
without the previous principle of causality, potentially ex¬ 
isting in the mind, ready to develop and apply itself to 
experience, there would be no ground or reason why the 
mind should be curious to observe and seek this “ inline- > 
diate and invariable antecedence consequently it would 
never be led to decide upon the particular cause in a given 
sequence ;—for merely to see successive phenomena, is not 
the same thing as experimentally observing and deciding 


134 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


upon the immediate and invariable connection of particular 
phenomena. 

It should be remembered, too, that the “ immediate and 
invariable” antecedence into which Brown resolves the idea 
of Cause, is not an absolute immediateness and invaria¬ 
bleness—but relative merely to human observation; so 
that the decisions which experience leads us to make in 
regard to the particular causes of particular phenomena, 
however satisfactory they may be to the mind, and however 
safe they may be for the practical guidance of life, can 
never have the absolute character which belongs to the 
general idea of cause, or rather to the principle of causal¬ 
ity.—We perceive a particular instance of change, or of 
antecedence and consequence. The change, the antece¬ 
dence and consequence is all that is phenomenal , all 
that appears ; but it is not all that we believe. Besides 
the antecedence which we see, there is something else which 
we do not see, but which we believe, namely a cause. That 
there is a cause of that change , is, for us , a necessary and - 
absolute truth. Whether that particular antecedent is the 
cause of that particular consequence, may or may not be 
believed, according as observation shall lead us to decide ; 
but this belief does not express a necessary and absolute 
truth as in the first case.—T r.] 




CRITICAL EXAMINATION 

OF 

LOCKE’S ESSAY 

ON 

THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 


CHAPTER FIFTH. 




4 


CONTENTS OF CHAPTER V. 

Examination of the second Book of the Essay on the Human Un¬ 
derstanding, continued. Of the idea of Good a nd Evil. Refutation. 
Conclusions of the second Book. Of the formation and of the me¬ 
chanism of ideas in the understanding. Of simple and complex 
ideas,—Of the activity and passivity of the mind in the acquisition 
of ideas.—The most general attributes of ideas.—Of the Association 
of ideas.—Examination of the third Book of the Essay on the Under¬ 
standing, concerning words. Credit due to Locke.—Examination 
of the following questions: 1. L»o words derive their first origin 
from othet words significant of sensible ideas ? 2. Is the significa¬ 
tion of words purely arbitraly ? 3. Are general ideas nothing but 

words? Of Nominalism and Realism. 4. Are words the sole 
cause of error and is all science only a well-constructed language ? 
— Examination of the third Book concluded. 


CHAPTER Y. 


It is an undeniable fact, that when we have done right or 
wrong, when we have obeyed the law of justice, or have 
broken it, we judge that we merit either reward or punish¬ 
ment. It is moreover a fact that we do indeed receive 
reward or punishment; 1, in the approbation of conscience 
or in the bitterness of remorse ; 2, in the esteem or blame 
of our fellow-men, who themselves moral beings, judge also 
of good and bad as we do, and like us judge that right and 
wrong merit reward and punishment; and who do punish 
and reward according to the nature of our actions, some¬ 
times by the moral sentence of their esteem or blame, some¬ 
times by physical punishments and rewards, which positive 
laws, the legitimate interpreters of the law of nature, hold 
ready for actions ; 3, and finally, if we raise our thoughts 
beyond this world, if we conceive of God as we ought, not 
only as the author of the physical world, but as the Father 
of the moral world, as the very substance of good and of 
the moral law, we cannot but conceive that God ought also 
to hold ready rewards and punishments for those*vvho have 
fulfilled or broken the law. But suppose that there is 
neither good nor evil, neither justice nor injustice in itself; 
suppose there is no law. There can then be no such thing 
as merit or demerit in having broken or obeyed it; there is 
no place for reward or punishment. There is no ground 
for peace of conscience, nor for the pains of remorse. 
There is no ground for the approbation or the disappro¬ 
bation of our fellow-men, for their esteem or their contempt. 
There is no ground for the punishments inflicted by 
society in this life, nor in the other, for those appointed by 
the Supreme Legislator. The idea of reward and punish¬ 
ment rests, then, upon that of merit or demerit, which rest* 
N 3 


.138 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


upon that of Law. Now what course does Locke take ? 
He deduces the idea of right and wrong, of the moral law, 
and all the rules of duty, from the fear and the hope of 
rewards and punishments, human or divine; that is to 
say, (without dwelling here upon any other consideration,) 
in the strict language of scientific method, he grounds the 
principle upon the consequence ; he confounds, not as 
before the antecedent with the consequent, but the 
consequent with the antecedent. And from whence comes 
this confusion P From that same source of all the con¬ 
fusion we have so many times signalized, the premature 
inquiry after causes, before a sufficient study of effects, the 
inquiry after the origin of the idea of right and wrong, 
before carefully collecting the attributes and all the at¬ 
tributes of this idea. Permit me to dwell a moment upon 
this important topic. 

First, then, the most superficial observation, provided it 
be impartial, easily demonstrates, that in the human mind, 
in its present actual development, there is the idea of right 
and of wrong, altogether distinct the one from the other. 
It is a fact, that in the presence of certain actions, reason 
qualifies them as good or bad, just or unjust. And it is 
not merely in the select circle of the enlightened, the reason 
puts forth this judgment. There is not a man, ignorant 
or instructed, civilized or savage, provided he be a rational 
and moral being, who does not exercise the same judgment. 
As the principle of causality errs and rectifies itself in its 
application without ceasing to exist, so the distinction 
between right and wrong may be incorrectly applied, may 
vary in regard to particular objects, and may become clearer 
and more correct in time, without ceasing to be w T ith all 
men the same thing at the bottom. It is an universal con¬ 
ception of reason, and hence it is found in all languages, 
those products and faithful images of the mind.—Not only 
is this distinction universal, but it is a necessary concep¬ 
tion. In vain does the reason, after having once received, 
attempt to deny it, or to call in question its truth. It 
cannot. One cannot at will regard the same action as 
just and unjust. These two ideas baffle every attempt to 
commute them, the one for the other. Their objects may 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


139 


change, but never their nature. Still further : reason can¬ 
not conceive the distinction between right and wrong, just 
and unjust, without instantly conceiving that the one ought 
to be done, and the other ought not to be done. The 
conception of right and wrong instantly gives that of Duty, 
of Law; and as the one is universal and necessary, the 
other is equally so. Now a law necessary for the reason 
in respect to action, is, for a rational but free agent, a simple 
obligation, but it is an absolute obligation. Duty obliges 
us, though without forcing us; but at the same time, if we 
can violate it, we cannot deny it. Accordingly, even when 
the feebleness of the liberty and the ascendency of passion, 
make the action false to the law, yet reason, independent, 
asserts the violated law as an inviolable law, and imposes 
it still with supreme authority upon the wayward conduct 
as its imprescriptible rule. The sentiment of reason and 
of moral obligation which reason reveals and imposes, is 
consciousness in its highest degree and office ; it is moral 
consciousness, or Conscience properly so called. 

Observe distinctly, however, with what it is that obli¬ 
gation has to do. It refers to right-doing. It bears upon no 
other point, but there it is absolute. It is, then, inde¬ 
pendent of every foreign consideration ; it has nothing to 
do with the facilities or difficulties which its fulfilment may 
encounter, nor with the consequences it may entail, with 
pleasure or pain, that is with happiness or misery, that is 
again, with any motive of utility whatever. For pleasure 
and pain, happiness and misery, are nothing but objects of 
sensibility; while moral good, and moral obligation, are 
conceptions of the reason. Utility is but an accident, which 
may or may not be; Duty is a principle. 

Now is not right-doing always useful to the agent and to 
others ? That is another question, to answer which, we no 
longer appeal to reason, but to experience. And does 
experience always answer in the affirmative ? Even if it 
does, and if the useful be always inseparable from the good, 
yet the good and the useful are none the less distinct in 
themselves; and it is not on the ground of utility that virtue 
becomes obligatory, and that it obtains universal veneration 
and admiration. It is admired; and that alone proves it 


3 4 0 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


is not taken solely as useful. Admiration is a phenomenon 
which it is impossible to explain altogether by utility. 

If the good were nothing but the useful, the admiration 
which virtue excites would always be on account of its 
utility. But such is not the fact. Human nature is wrong 
perhaps in being so formed ; but its admiration is not always 
the expression of its interest. The most useful virtuous 
act can never be so much so as many natural phenomena 
which everywhere diffuse and maintain life. There is not 
an act of virtue, how salutary soever it be, which can be 
compared in this respect with the beneficent influence of 
the sun. And who ever admires the sun P Who ever experi¬ 
ences for it the sentiment of .moral admiration and respect 
which the most unproductive act of virtue inspires P It is 
because the sun is nothing but useful; while the virtuous 
act, whether useful or not, is the fulfilment of a law to 
which the agent, whom we denominate virtuous and whom 
we admire, is voluntarily conformed. We may 'derive 
advantage from an action without admiring it, as we may 
admire it without deriving advantage. The foundation of 
admiration, then, is not the utility which the admired 
object procures to others; still less is it the utility of the 
action to him who performs it. The virtuous action would 
otherwise be nothing but a lucky calculation; we might con¬ 
gratulate the author, but not the least in the world should we 
be tempted to admire him. Mankind demands of its heroes 
some other merit than that of a sagacious merchant; and far 
from the utility of the agent and his personal interest being 
the ground or the measure of admiration, it is a fact that 
otherthings being equal, the phenomenon of admiration dimi¬ 
nishes or increases in proportion to the sacrifices which the 
virtuous action cost. But if you wish for manifest proof 
that virtue is not founded upon the personal interest of 
him who practises it, take the example I have given on 
another occasion,* of a generous man whose virtue proves 

* Cours de Philosophie , 1829. Vol. I. p. 297.—[Reference is 
here made to the discussion of the doctrine of Epicurus concerning 
virtue. In the example, as there given, there is, however, a very 
material element included, which is here omitted, the supposition, 
namely, that there is no future life. To the argument, as here given 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


141 


his ruin instead of being an advantage to him. And to 
prevent all idea of calculation, suppose a man who sacrifices 
his life for the truth, who dies upon the scaffold, young 
and fresh in life, for the cause of justice. Here then is no 
future to be looked at, of course no chance of ulterior ad¬ 
vantage : and of course no calculation, no possible self- 
interest. 

This man, if virtue is nothing but utility, is a fool, and 
mankind who admire him are delirious. This delirium is 
nevertheless a fact, an undeniable fact. It demonstrates, 
then, unanswerably, that in the human mind in its actual 
state, the idea of right and wrong, of virtue and vice, is 
one thing, and the idea of utility, of pleasure and pain, of 
happiness and misery, is another thing. 

I have now shown the essential and metaphysical dif¬ 
ference of these ideas. It remains to show their relation. 
It is certain that the idea of virtue in the human mind is 
distinct from that of happiness; but I ask, if when you 
meet a virtuous man, a moral agent who, free to obey or 
not to obey the moral law, obeys it at the sacrifice of his 
dearest affections,—I ask if this man, this moral agent, 
besides the admiration which attaches to the act, does not 
inspire you with a sentiment of good-will which attaches 
to his person ? Is it not true that you are disposed, if 
happiness w r ere in your hands, to dispense it to this 
virtuous man P Is it not true that he appears to you 
worthy to be happy, and that in respect to him, happiness 
does not appear to you solely as an arbitrary idea, but a 
right ? At the same time, when the guilty man is ren¬ 
dered wretched, as the effect of his vices, do we not judge 
that he deserves it? In a word, do we not judge, in 
general, that it would be unjust for vice to be happy and 
virtue miserable P This is evidently the common opinion 

it might be objected, that on the hypothesis of a future life, the man 
who sacrifices his life on the scaffold for the cause of truth, may 
make a very prudent calculation for his best interest. Still, the 
position that prudence is not the essence of virtue, (though virtue 
may be prudent,) and that what mankind admire in an act of virtue, 
is something more than the sagacious calculation of the agent for his 
interest, is unquestionable.—T r.] 


142 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


of all men ; and this opinion is not only universal, it is 
also a necessary conception. In vain does reason endeavour 
to conceive vice as worthy of happiness ; it cannot succeed 
in the attempt. It cannot help demanding an intimate 
harmony between happiness and virtue. And in this con¬ 
ception, we are not sensitive beings who aspire after happi¬ 
ness, nor sympathetic beings who desire it for our fellow 
creatures; but we are rational and moral beings, who, as 
with a superior authority, pass such a judgment in respect 
to others, as well as in respect to ourselves. And when 
facts do not accord with our judgments, we do not, on that 
account, reverse our judgments. We maintain them invin¬ 
cibly, in spite of facts at variance with them; and such 
facts we do not hesitate to call disorders. The idea of 
merit and demerit is, for the reason, inseparable from that of 
the moral law fulfilled or violated.* Hence the idea of 
reward and punishment as universal and necessary as its 
principle. 

Wherever virtue and vice receive their reward and 
punishment, there, in our conceptions, is a state of moral 
order; and where vice and virtue are without punishment 
and reward, or where they are equally treated, there, on 
the other hand, is a state of disorder. Rewards and punish¬ 
ments are different according to the cases, and it is not 
necessary here to determine and classify them with perfect 

* [“ Not only do we unceasingly aspire after happiness, as sensi¬ 
tive beings, but when we have done right, we judge, as intelligent 
and moral beings, that we are worthy of happiness.—This is the 
necessary principle of merit and demerit—the origin and foundation 
of all our ideas of reward and punishment,—a principle perpetually 
confounded either with the desire of happiness, or with the moral 
law. 

“ Hence the question of the sovereign good —summum bonum — 
never yet solved. A single solution has been sought for a complex 
question, from not comprehending the two principles capable of solv¬ 
ing it. The Epicurean solution : satisfaction of the desire for happi¬ 
ness. The Stoic solution : fulfilment ot the moral law. 

“ The true solution is in the connection and harmony of Virtue, and 
Happiness as merited by it; for the two principles are not equiva¬ 
lent; virtue is the antecedent. It is not alone the sole and sovereign 
good ; but it is the chief good.” Frogmens Philosophiques, p. 251. 
-Ta.] 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


143 


precision. When vicious actions do not pass beyond a 
certain sphere, the sphere of the person who commits them, 
men do not impose upon them any other punishment than 
their contempt or disesteem. We punish them by opinion. 
When they exceed that sphere, and affect the rights of 
others, then they fall under positive laws, and those laws 
penal. These two sorts of punishment, moral and material, 
have through all time and everywhere been inflicted upon 
vicious agents. Without any doubt it is useful to society 
to inflict contempt upon the violater of moral order; 
without doubt it is useful to society to punish effectually 
the individual who attacks the foundations of social order. 
This consideration of utility is real; it is weighty; but I 
say that it is not the first, that it is only accessary, and 
that the immediate basis of all penalty is the idea of the 
essential merit and demerit of actions, the general idea of 
order, which imperiously demands that the merit and de¬ 
merit of actions, which is a law of reason and of order, should 
be realized in a society that pretends to be rational and 
well ordered. On this ground, andfm this ground alone, 
of realizing this law of reason and of order, the two powers 
of society, opinion and government, appear faithful to their 
primary law. Then comes up utility, the immediate utility 
of repressing evil, and the indirect utility of preventing it, 
by example, that is, by fear. But this consideration has 
need of a basis superior to itself, in order to render it 
legitimate. Suppose in fact that there is nothing good or 
evil in itself, and consequently neither essential merit or 
demerit, and consequently, again, no absolute right of 
blaming or punishing ; by what right, then, I ask, do you 
blame or disgrace a man, or make him ascend the scaffold, 
or put him in irons for life, for the advantage of others, 
when the action of the man is neither good nor bad in 
itself, and merits in itself neither blame nor punishment ? 
Suppose that it is not absolutely right, just in itself, to 
blame this man or to punish him, and the legitimacy and 
propriety of infamy and of glory, and of every species of 
reward and punishment are at an end. Still further, I 
maintain if punishment has no other ground than utility, 
then even its utility is destroyed; for in order that a 


344 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


punishment may be useful, it is requisite : 1, that he upon 
whom it is inflicted, endowed as he is with the principle 
of merit and demerit, should regard himself as justly pun¬ 
ished, and should accept his punishment with a suitable 
disposition; 2, that the spectators, equally endowed with 
the principle of merit and demerit, should regard the 
culprit as justly punished according to the measure of his 
crime, and should apply to themselves by anticipation the 
same justice incase of crime, and should be kept in har¬ 
mony with the social order by the view of its legitimate 
penalties. Hence arises the utility of examples of punish¬ 
ment whether moral or physical.—But take away its 
foundation in justice, and you destroy the utility of 
punishment ; you excite indignation and abhorrence, 
instead of awakening penitence in the victim, or teaching 
a salutary lesson to the public. You array courage, sympa¬ 
thy, everything noble and elevated in human nature, on 
the side of the victim. You excite all energetic spirits 
against society and its artificial laws. Thus the utility of 
punishment is itself* grounded in its justice, instead of 
justice being grounded in its utility. ' Punishment is the 
sanction of the law, and not its foundation. Moral order 
has its foundation not in punishment, but punishment has 
its foundation in moral order. The idea of right and 
wrong is grounded only on itself, on reason which reveals 
it. It is the condition of the idea of merit and demerit, 
which is the condition of the idea of reward and punish¬ 
ment ; and this latter idea is to the two former, but 
especially to the idea of right and wrong, in the relation 
of the consequence to the principle.* 

* [Foundation of punishment .—Cousin here refers to his translation 
of the works of Plato, Vol. III. argument of the Gorgias. We 
translate the passage which relates most directly to this subject; it 
will be read with interest: 

“ Publicists still seek fur the foundation of penalty. Some, who 
regard themselves as enlightened politicians, find it in the utility 
of punishment for those who witness it, who are deterred from 
crime by its threatenings, and its preventive efficacy. This is in¬ 
deed one of the effects of punishment, but not its foundation.— 
others, through affectation of greater humanity, wish to consider 
the legitimacy of punishment as grounded wholly on its utility to 
him who endures it, by its corrective efficacy. This, again, is 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


145 


This relation which embraces all moral order, subsists 
as inviolable as reason itself from which we receive it, even 
when we pass beyond the sphere of this life and of human 
society, to that of religion and of a world where God 
reigns without participation, where destiny gives place to 
the pure action of Providence, where fact and right are the 
same thing. There we cannot conceive of God but as at 
once the cause and substance of good, as the representative 
in some sort of the moral law: that is to say, we cannot 
conceive of God without referring to him the moral- law 
which by our reason is imposed upon us. Now at the 
same time that we conceive of God as imposing upon us a 
just law, we cannot help conceiving that God attaches a 
punishment to the violation of this law. The idea of merit 
and demerit, transferred as it were into the other world, 
is the basis of the conception of punishments and rewards 
in the future life. Suppose that God was not conceived 
by us as the representative of the moral law, it would ap- 

certainly one of the possible effects of punishment, but not its 
foundation ; for in order that the punishment be corrective, it is 
necessary that it should be submitted to as just. We are therefore 
always compelled to return to the idea of justice. Justice is the 
true foundation of punishment ; personal and social utility is only 
a consequence. It is an undeniable f&ct, that after every wrong 
act, the unjust man thinks, and cannot but think, that he is ill- 
deserving, that is, is worthy of punishment. In the intelligence, 
the idea of punishment corresponds to that ofinjustice : and when 
the injustice has been committed in the social sphere, the punish¬ 
ment ought to be inflicted by society. Society can do it only be¬ 
cause it ought. The right here has no other source than the duty to 
inflict—duty the most strict, the most evident and the most sacred, 
—without which this pretended right would be nothing but that of 
force, that is to say an atrocious injustice, even though it be to the 
moral advantage of him who received it, and a salutary spectacle for 
the people ; which in fact could not then be the case, for the 
punishment would then find no sympathy, no echo, neither in the 
public conscience, nor in that of the individual punished. Pun¬ 
ishment is not just because it is useful, as a preventive or a correc¬ 
tive ; but it is useful in either or both these ways, because it is just. 
—This theory of punishment, by demonstrating the falseness, the 
incomplete and exclusive character of the two theories which divide 
publicists, completes and explains them, and gives to both a centre 
and legitimate basis.” Cousin’s Plato, Vol. III. p. 167—169. 
—Tr.] 


O 


146 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


pear to us impossible that he could punish or reward us 
for breaking or obeying the law. It is not in the caprice 
of a being superior to us in power, that we rest the legi¬ 
timacy of the retributions of another life. Take away the 
justice of God, and his power, absolute as it is, would no 
longer appear to us a sufficient foundation for rewards and 
punishments. Take away his justice, and what remains ? 
A government, but no law; and instead of the sublime 
realization of the idea of merit and demerit, the future life 
is nothing but the threat of a superior force against a 
feeble being, fated to sustain the part of a sufferer and a 
victim.—In heaven, then, as upon the earth, in heaven 
much more than upon the earth, the sanction of law is not 
the foundation of it; reward and punishment are deduced 
from merit and demerit, from right and wrong; the for¬ 
mer do not constitute the latter. 

Let us now apply to this subject the distinctions we have 
before established. We have distinguished the logical order 
of ideas, from the order of their acquisition. In the first 
case, one idea is the logical condition of another when it 
explains the other; in the second case, one idea is the 
chronological condition of another, when it arises in the 
human mind before the other. Now I say in respect to the 
question before us, that the idea of justice, the idea of the 
moral law obeyed or broken, is : 1. The logical condition 
of the idea of merit or demerit, which without it is incom¬ 
prehensible and inadmissible; 2. The antecedent, the 
chronological condition of the acquisition of the idea of 
merit and demerit, which certainly never would have arisen 
in the mind, if previously it had not received the idea of 
justice and injustice, right and wrong, good and evil. Now, 
Locke, after having frequently confounded, as we have 
seen, the logical condition of an idea with its chronological 
condition, confounds at once in regard to this subject, 
both the logical and chronological condition of an idea 
with the idea itself, and even with a consequence of that 
idea ; for the idea of reward and punishment is only a con¬ 
sequence of the idea of merit and demerit, which in its turn 
is only a consequence of the idea of right and wrong, which 
is here the supreme principle, beyond which it is impossible 


ELEMENTS OP PSYCHOLOGY. 


147 


to ascend. Thus, instead of laying down first the idea of 
right and wrong, then that of merit and demerit, and then 
that of reward and punishment; it is the reward and 
punishment, that is to say, the pleasure and the pain that 
result from right and wrong, which, according to Locke, is 
the foundation of moral good and evil, and of the moral 
rectitude of actions. 

B. II. ch. XXVIII. § 5 : “ Good and evil, as hath been 
shown, B. II. ch. XX. § 2, and ch. XXI. § 42, are nothing 
but pleasure or pain, or that which occasions, or procures 
pleasure or pain to us. Moral good and evil, then, is only 
the conformity or disagreement of our voluntary actions to 
some law, whereby good or evil is drawn on us by the will 
and power of the law-maker; which good and evil, pleasure 
or pain, attending our observance or breach of the law, by 
the decree of the law-maker, is what we call reward and 
punishment.” 

Locke then distinguishes three laws or rules, namely, 
the divine law, the civil law, and the law of opinion, or re¬ 
putation. 

Ibid. § 7 : “By the relation they bear to the first of 
these, men judge whether their actions are sins or duties ; 
by the second, whether they be criminal or innocent; and 
be the third, whether they be virtues or vices.” 

Ibid. § 8 : “ Divine law the measure of sin and duty. 
First, the divine law, whereby I mean that law which God 
has set to the actions of men, whether promulgated to them 
by the light of nature or the voice of revelation. That God 
has given a rule whereby men should govern themselves, I 
think there is nobody so brutish as to deny. He has a right 
to do it; we are his creatures: he has goodness and wis¬ 
dom to direct our actions to that which is best; and he has 
power to enforce it by rewards and punishments, of infinite 
weight and duration in another life; for nobody can take us 
out of his hands. This is the only true touchstone of moral 
rectitude, and by comparing them to this law, it is that men 
judge of the most considerable moral good or evil of their 
actions; that is, whether as sins or duties, they are like to 
procure them happiness or misery, from the hands of the 
Almighty.” 


148 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


Here, then, the punishments and rewards of a future life 
are declared the sole touchstone, the sole measure of the 
rectitude of our actions. But suppose that the law which 
God has given us were not just in itself, independently of 
the rewards and punishments attached to it; the act which 
obeys or violates it would then be neither good nor bad in 
itself; and the divine will would then be seen in the 
strange aspect of attaching to a law indilferent in itself, 
and in its fulfilment or violation, rewards the most allur¬ 
ing, and punishments the most dreadful. These promises 
and these threatenings, moreover, being addressed merely 
to the sensibility, which is the subject of pleasure and pain, 
and not to the reason or conscience, might excite in us fear 
or hope, but never the emotion of reverence, nor the senti¬ 
ment of duty. And it is of no avail to say, as Locke has, 
that God has the right to do so, to establish, namely, such 
a law, though it is in itself indifferent, because we are his 
creatures; for that is without meaning, unless it be that 
he is the most powerful and we the weakest, and that would 
be to appeal to the right of the strongest. In general this 
theory tends to make God an arbitrary king, to substitute 
the Divine Will and Power in place of Divine Reason and 
Wisdom. It is a doctrine concerning God for the senses, 
and not for the reason; made for slaves and brutes, not 
for intelligent and free beings.* 

* [In his Introduction to Plato’s Euthyphron, Cousin has the fol¬ 
lowing vemarks upon the Divine Government: 

“God being goodness, or rectitude itself, the very substance of 
moral order, it follows that all moral truths refer to him, as radii to 
a centre, as modifications to the subject which is the ground of their 
existence and which they manifest. So far therefore from being in 
contradiction, morality and religion are intimately connected with 
each other, both in the unity of their real principle and in that of 
the human mind which simultaneously forms the conception of them. 
But when Anthropomorphism, degrading theology to the drama, 
makes of the Eternal a God for the theatre, tyrannical and passion¬ 
ate, who from the height of his omnipotence arbitrarily decides what 
is right and what is wrong, it is then that philosophical criticism may 
and ought, in the interest of moral truths, to take authority from 
the immediate obligation which characterizes them, to establish them 
upon their own basis, independently of every foreign circumstance, 
independently even of their relation to their primitive source.— 
Such is the particular point of view in which the Euthyphron is to 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


14 ( J 


Ibid. § 9 : “ Civil law the measure of crimes and inno¬ 
cence. Secondly , the civil law, the rule set by the common¬ 
wealth to the actions of those who belong to it, is another 
rule to which men refer their actions, to judge whether they 
be criminal or no. This law nobody overlooks; the 
rewards and punishments which enforce it being ready at 
hand, and suitable to the power that makes it; which is 
the force of the commonwealth, engaged to protect the lives, 
liberties, and possessions of those who live according to 
its laws, and has power to take away life, liberty, or goods, 
from him who disobeys, which is the punishment of 
offences committed against this law.” 

Unquestionably society has this right; this right is even 
a duty for it; but it is so only upon one condition, the 
condition namely, that the laws which it passes should be 
just; for suppose that the law established by society be 
unjust, the violation of this law ceases to be unjust, and 
then the punishment of an act not unjust which transgresses 
an unjust law, is itself injustice. Take away, I repeat, the 
previous fitness and justness of the law, and you destroy 

be regarded.—Socrates eagerly acknowledges that there is an es¬ 
sential harmony between morality and religion, that everything 
which is right is pleasing to him whom we are behoved to conceive 
as the type and substance of eternal reason. But he inquires why 
right, the morally good, is pleasing to God ; and if it might not be 
otherwise ; if it is not possible that wrong, the morally evil, might 
be pleasing to him 1 No. Why is it, then, that the good cannot 
but be pleasing to God ? It is, in the last analysis, solely because 
it is good ; all other reasons that can be given always presuppose and 
return to this. It must therefore be admitted that good is not such 
because it pleases God, but it pleases God because it is good; and 
consequently it is not in religious doctrines that we are to look for the 
primitive title of the legitimacy of moral truths. These truths, like 
all others, legitimate themselves, and need no other authority than 
that of Reason which perceives and proclaims them. Reason is for 
itself its own sanction. This conception of the morally good, or to 
speak in the language of the time of Socrates, this conception of the 
holy in itself, disengaged from the external forms in which it may be 
clothed, from the circumstances which accompany it, and even from 
the necessary consequences which are derived from it,-—and con¬ 
sidered in regard to what is peculiar and absolute in it, in its im¬ 
mediate grandeur and beauty, is an example of an Idea in the 
system of Plato.” Cousin’s Pluto. Argument of the Euthyphron , 
Vol. I.—Tr.] 


150 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


the fitness and justice of the punishment. Punishment 
loses all its character of morality, and retains only that of 
mere physical force, which cannot, as Hobbes very well per¬ 
ceived, be too absolute or too formidable; since it cannot sub¬ 
sist nor make itself regarded, except from the fear it inspires. 

Ibid. §10: “ Philosophical law the measure of virtue and 
vice. Thirdly, the law of opinion or reputation. Virtue 
and vice are names pretended and supposed everywhere to 
stand for actions in their own nature right and wrong; 
and so far as they really are so applied, they are coincident 
with the divine law above mentioned. But yet whatever 
is pretended, this is visible, that these names, virtue and 
vice, in the particular instances of their application, through 
the several nations and societies of men in the world, are 
constantly attributed only to such actions, as in each coun¬ 
try and society are in reputation or discredit. Nor is it 
to be thought strange that men everywhere should give the 
name of virtue to those actions, which among them are 
judged praiseworthy ; and call that vice , which they account 
blameable; since otherwise they would condemn themselves, 
if they should think anything right, to which they allowed 
not commendation, and anything wrong, which they let 
pass without blame. Thus the measure of what is every¬ 
where called and esteemed virtue and vice, is the approba¬ 
tion or dislike, praise or blame, which by a secret and tacit 
consent establishes itself in the several societies, tribes and 
clubs of men in the world ; whereby several actions come 
to find credit or disgrace amongst them according to the 
judgment, maxims, or fashions, of that place. Por though 
men uniting to politic societies, have resigned up to the 
public, the disposing of all their force, so that they cannot 
employ it against any fellow citizen, any further than the 
law of the country directs; yet they retain still the power 
of thinking well or ill, approving or disapproving the actions 
of those whom they live amongst and converse with ; and 
by this approbation and dislike, they establish amongst 
themselves what they call virtue and vice.” 

Ibid. § 11 : “ That this is the common measure of virtue 
and vice, will appear to any one who considers, that though 
that passes for vice in one country which is counted virtue , 
o 3 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


151 


or at least not vice in another, yet everywhere virtue and 
praise, vice and blame go together.” 

Upon which point Locke refers to all pagan antiquity, 
in which the incitement to virtue was the appeal to glory. 
He even cites a passage of St. Paul, which he forces aside 
from its natural sense, to get at the conclusion, that there 
is no other measure of virtue than good or bad fame. Read 
also his twelfth section, in which the “ enforcements” of 
this law are stated to be “ commendation and discredit.” 

But you will perceive that the same is true in regard to 
opinion, the pretended philosophical law, as in regard to 
public punishments under the civil law, and in regard to the 
punishments of another life under the divine law. Suppose 
that virtue is not virtue in itself, and that it is praise and 
approbation which make it, it is clear that morality is no 
longer anything; there is no longer a law ; there is no¬ 
thing but arbitrary customs, local and changing; there is 
no longer anything but fashion and opinion. Now, either 
opinion is nothing but a lying sound, or it is the echo of 
the public conscience; and then it is an effect, and not a 
cause ; its legitimacy and its power reside in the sentiment 
of right and wrong. But to elevate the effect to the rank 
of a cause, to establish right and wrong upon opinion, is 
to destroy right and wrong ; it is to confound and vitiate 
virtue, by making fear its only sanction; it is to make 
courtiers and not virtuous men. Popular applause is one 
of the sweetest things in the world, but only when it is the 
reflection of one’s own conscience, and not the price of 
complaisance; when it is acquired by a series of actions 
truly virtuous, by constancy to one’s character, fidelity to 
one’s principles and to one’s friends in the common service 
of one’s country. Glory is the crown, not the foundation 
of virtue. Duty does not measure itself by reward. With¬ 
out doubt it is easier to perform it on a conspicuous theatre, 
and with the applauses of the crowd; but it is not at all 
lessened in the shade; not in ignominy; there, as every¬ 
where, it is one and the same, inviolable and obligatory. 

The conclusion to which we perpetually recur, is, that 
here likewise, Locke obviously takes the consequence for 
the principle, the effect for the cause. And you will ob- 


152 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


serve that this confusion is a necessity of his system. This 
system admits no idea that is not derived from reflection 
or from sensation. Reflection being here out of the question, 
it is to sensation that Locke has recourse; and as sensation 
cannot explain the idea which mankind have of good and 
evil, the object is to find an idea more or less resembling 
it, which can come from sensation, and take the place of 
the former. Now this idea is that of punishment and re¬ 
ward, which resolves itself into that of pleasure and pain, 
happiness and misery, or in general, into the idea of utility. 
This confusion, to repeat once more, was necessary to the 
system of Locke ; and it saves it; but dispel the confusion, 
re-establish the facts in their real value and true order, and 
the system of Locke is overthrown. 

Let us see where we are. Locke has tried his system 
upon a number of particular ideas, to wit: the idea of space, 
the idea of time, the idea of the infinite, of personal identity, 
of substance, of cause of good and evil; imposing upon 
himself the task of explaining all these ideas by sensation 
and by reflection. We have followed Locke upon all these 
points chosen by himself; and upon all these points, an at¬ 
tentive examination has demonstrated that not one of these 
ideas can be explained by sensation or reflection, except 
under the condition of entirely misconceiving the real cha¬ 
racteristics with which these ideas are now marked in the 
understanding of all mankind, and of confounding, through 
the help of this misconception, these ideas with other ideas 
which are indeed more or less intimately united with them, 
but which are not the same ; which precede them, or which 
succeed them, but do not constitute them, as the ideas of 
body, of number, of the phenomena of consciousness and 
memory, of collection and totality, of reward and punish¬ 
ment, pleasure and pain. Now without doubt sensation 
and reflection explain these latter ideas ; but these are not 
the ideas which it is the problem to explain ; and Locke is v 
therefore convicted of being unable to explain all the ideas 
that are in the human mind. 

The theories which we have brought forward and dis¬ 
cussed, occupy three fourths of the second book of Locke’s 
Essay on the Human Understanding. Locke had then 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


153 


only to gather his generalizations; he had nothing more to 
do but to show how, the ideas which we have gone over 
and all similiar ideas being furnished by sensation or by 
reflection, the complete edifice of the human understanding 
may be erected on this basis. On our part, the most im¬ 
portant portion of our task is accomplished. It was neces¬ 
sary to accompany the exposition of the grounds of Locke’s 
system with a profound and thorough discussion. Now 
that these grounds are overthrown, we can proceed faster; 
it will be enough to give a rapid view of the last part of 
the second book, stating the principal positions, and eluci¬ 
dating them by a few reflections. 

All those ideas which are derived immediately from these 
two sources, sensation and reflection, are by Locke denom¬ 
inated simple ideas. Simple ideas are the elements out of 
which we compose all other ideas. Compound or complex 
ideas are those which we form subsequently by the combi¬ 
nation of simple and primitive ideas; so that the whole 
development and action of the human mind is resolved into 
the acquisition, immediately from the senses, of a certain 
number of simple ideas, which Locke believes he has de¬ 
termined ;—then the formation from these materials of com¬ 
plex ideas by combination and association; then again the 
formation from these complex ideas of ideas still more com¬ 
plex than the former; and thus on continually, till we have 
exhausted all the ideas in the human mind.* 

There is one error which it is here necessary to expose. 
It is not true that we begin by simple ideas, and then 
proceed to complex ideas. On the contrary, we begin with 
complex ideas, and from them proceed to more simple. 
The process of the mind in the acquisition of ideas is 
precisely the inverse of that which Locke assigns. All our 
first ideas are complex, and for the evident reason that all 
our faculties, or at least a great number of our faculties, 
enter into exercise at the same time ; and their simultaneous 
action gives us at the same time a number of ideas bound 
and blended together, which form a whole. Tor example; 
the idea of the external world which is given so quick and 


* Book II. chap. II. and chap. XII. 


154 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


early in the order of acquisition, is a very complex idea, 
containing a multitude of ideas. There is the idea of the 
secondary qualities of external objects; the idea of their 
primary qualities; the idea of the permanent reality of 
something to which you refer these qualities, that is of 
body, of matter; there is also the idea of space containing 
body ; the idea of time in which its different motions and 
changes are accomplished, etc. And do you believe that 
you have at first, and by itself, the idea of primary quali¬ 
ties, and of the secondary qualities ; and then the idea of 
the subject of these qualities ; then the idea of time ; and 
then the idea of space P By no means. It is simulta¬ 
neously, or almost simultaneously, that you acquire all 
these ideas. Moreover you do not have them without 
knowing that you have them; you have the conviction of 
having them.. This conviction implies for you the exercise 
of consciousness; and consciousness implies a certain 
degree of attention, that is, of will; it implies also a 
belief in your own existence, in the real or substantial me 
or self, which you are. In a word, you have at once an 
assemblage of ideas which are given you the one with the 
other; and all your primitive ideas are complex. They 
are complex besides for another reason ; because they are 
particular and concrete; as I have shown in the preceding 
lecture. Then comes abstraction, which, employing itself 
upon those primitive data, complex, concrete, and particular, 
separates what nature had given you united and simul¬ 
taneous, and considers by itself each of these parts of the 
whole. That part which is separated from the whole, that 
idea detached from the body of the total picture of the pri¬ 
mitive ideas, becomes an abstract and simple idea, until an 
abstraction, more sagacious and more profound, subjects 
that supposed simple idea to the same process to which the 
collection of preceding ideas had been subjected—namely, 
decomposes it, evolves from it many other ideas which it 
considers apart, abstracting one from the other ;—until in 
short, from decomposition to decomposition, abstraction 
and analysis arrive at ideas so simple that they are supposed 
no longer capable of being decomposed. The more simple 
an idea is, the more general it is; the more abstract, the 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


155 


greater the extension it has. We begin with the concrete 
and we go to the abstract; we begin with the definite and 
particular, in order to arrive at the simple and the general. 
The process of the mind, then, as I have said, is altogether 
the reverse of that assigned by Locke. I should, however, 
render this justice to the school of Locke, that it has not 
permitted so important an error to remain in the analysis 
of the mind ; and that Condillac subsequently restored the 
true process. 

This has not been done, however, in regard to another 
opinion of Locke, blended with the former, namely, that 
the mind is passive in the acquisition of simple ideas, and 
active in that of complex ideas.* Without doubt the mind 
is more active, its activity is more awake, in forming gene¬ 
ral ideas by abstraction (for this is what we must under¬ 
stand by the complex ideas of Locke;) but it is also active 
in the acquisition of particular ideas (the simple ideas of 
Locke,) for in this there is still consciousness, and con¬ 
sciousness supposes attention, will, activity. The mind is 
a ways active when it thinks. It does not always think, 
as Locke his well remarked;f but whenever it does think, 
and it certainly thinks in the acquisition of particular ideas, 
it is active. Locke has too much diminished the activity 
of the mind ; and the school of Locke, far from extending 
it, has limited it still more. 

All our ideas are now obtained, or supposed to be ob¬ 
tained ; their mechanism has been described and explained. 
It remains only to investigate their most general characters. 
Locke has divided them into clear and distinct ideas, and 
ideas obscure and confused, X real and chimerical, § com¬ 
plete and incomplete, || true and false.^f—In the last chap¬ 
ter, we find the remark since then so often reiterated, that 
in strictness all our ideas are true, and that error does not 
respect the idea considered in itself; for even when you 
have an idea of a thing which does not exist, as the idea 
of a centaur, of a chimera, it is not the less true that you 
have the idea which you have ; it is only that the idea which 

* B. II. ch. I. § 25 ; ch. XII. § 2. 

+ B. II. ch. XXIX. 

j| Ibid. ch. XXXI. 


+ B. II. ch. 1. § 18, 19. 
§ Ibid. ch. XXX. 

% Ibid, ch, XXXII. 


156 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


you certainly have, which unquestionably is in the human 
mind, lacks a corresponding object, really existing in nature; 
but the idea in itself is not the less true. The error, 
then, respects not the idea, but the affirmation sometimes 
added to it, namely, that this idea has an object really ex¬ 
isting in nature. You are not in an error, because you 
have the idea of a centaur; but you are in an error when 
to this idea of a centaur vou join the affirmation, that the 
object of such an idea exists. It is not the idea taken by 
itself, it is the judgment connected with it, which contains 
the error. The school of Locke has developed and put in 
clear light this judicious observation. 

The second book closes with an excellent chapter on the 
association of ideas.* Not only are ideas clear or obscure, 
distinct or confused, real or chimerical, complete or incom¬ 
plete, true or false ; they have, besides, this undeniable 
peculiarity, that by occasion of one we conceive another, 
that they recall and bring up each other. There are as¬ 
sociations natural, necessary, and rational; there are also 
false, arbitrary, and vicious associations of ideas. Locke 
has clearly discerned and forcibly signalized the danger of 
the latter sort. He has shown by a multitude of examples 
how it frequently happens, that simply because we have 
seen two things by chance united, this purely accidental 
association subsists in the imagination and perverts the 
understanding. This is the source of a multitude of errors ; 
not only of false ideas, but of false sentiments, of arbitrary 
antipathies and sympathies, which not unfrequently degene¬ 
rate into insanity. We find here in Locke the wisest 
counsels for the education of the soul and of the mind, on 
the art of breaking up in good season the false connections 
of ideas, and of restoring to their place these rational connec¬ 
tions which are derived from the nature of ideas and of the 
human mind. I regret but one thing; it is that Locke did 
not push this analysis still further, that he left still so much 
vagueness upon this important subject. It should not have 
been enough for him to lay it down that there are associa¬ 
tions true, natural, and rational; and associations false, ac- 


* B II. ch. XXXIII. 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


157 


cidental, and irrational; he should have shown in what 
consisted the true connections; determined the most im¬ 
portant and the most ordinary of these legitimate connec¬ 
tions ; and attempted to ascend to the laws which govern 
them. A precise theory of these laws would have been an 
immense service done to philosophy; for the laws of the 
association of ideas rest upon the laws of the understanding 
itself. In fine, when Locke passed to perverted associa¬ 
tions, he should have shown what is the root of these 
associations, and what is the relation of false connections to 
the true. We see the human mind only in its extravagance, 
until we ascend to the source, the reason of that extrava¬ 
gance. Thus, for example, Locke incessantly recommends, 
and very justly, to break up in the minds of children, the 
ordinary association of spectres with darkness. A more 
thorough analysis would have investigated the ground of 
this association of mysterious beings with night, darkness, 
or obscurity. The idea of phantoms or spectres is never 
connected in the mind or in the imagination, with the idea 
of the sun or a brilliant light. Here is certainly an extrava¬ 
gance of the mind, but it is an extravagance which has its 
ground, and it would be curious and useful to investigate 
it. Here is a false connection of ideas which analysis can 
completely explain only by referring it to another connec¬ 
tion of ideas, natural and legitimate, but perverted in a 
particular case. As to the rest, I repeat, this whole chap¬ 
ter shows the ingenious observer, and the true philosopher; 
and we shall see hereafter that the association of ideas be¬ 
came, in the hands of Locke’s school, a rich subject of 
experiment and of instructive results, a fruitful topic of fa¬ 
vourite study, and in respect to which the followers of Locke 
have rendered unquestionable service to the human reason. 

Such is the exact and faithful analysis of the second 
book. Locke has made all our ideas to be derived from 
sensation or from reflection; he has exhibited their gene¬ 
sis, the play of their development, the different general 
attributes by which they may be classed, and that most 
remarkable quality, which is at once the most useful or the 
most dangerous.—Ideology, psychology, at least that of 
Locke, is achieved. 

p 


158 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


It would now remain to pass to the applications of 
ideology, to the knowledge of objects and beings by the 
aid of ideas. This is the subject of the fourth book. But 
Locke, having clearly perceived what is the relation of 
words to ideas, and that words are a fruitful source of errors 
for the understanding, has previously devoted an entire 
book, his third, to the discussion of the great question 
concerning signs and language. 

You know that this is again one of the points in which 
the school of Locke lias been the most faithful to their 
master. It is the favourite subject with his school, and I 
cordially acknowledge that in regard to this question, to¬ 
gether with that concerning the association of ideas, it has 
deserved best of philosophy. I acknowledge with great 
respect a multitude of sound, ingenious, and even original 
ideas, scattered through the whole of Locke’s third book. 
Locke has admirably perceived the necessary intervention 
of signs, of words, in the formation of abstract and general 
ideas ; the influence of signs and words in definitions, and 
consequently in a considerable part of logic. He has no¬ 
ticed and signalized the advantages of a good system of 
signs, the utility of a well-constructed language, the danger 
of an ill one ; the verbal disputes to which a defective lan¬ 
guage too frequently reduces philosophy. Upon all these 
points he has opened the route which his school have en¬ 
tered and pursued. If he has not gone very far, he still 
has the credit of opening the way, if he has suffered many 
profound observations to escape him which have been 
made by his successors, he has in requital avoided very 
many systematic errors into which they have fallen. Faith¬ 
ful still, however, to his method of inquiring more after 
the origin of things than their actual characters, Locke 
has not failed to investigate, though briefly, the origin of 
words, of signs, of language. He has recognized that the 
materials of language pre-exist in nature, in sounds, and 
in that of our organs, which is fitted to form them; but 
he perfectly comprehended that if there were nothing else 
but sounds, even articulate sounds, there would indeed be 
the materials of signs, but there would yet be no signs. 
There are signs only on one condition, namely, that the 


"ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


159 


understanding attaches a sense, a particular signification to 
the sound, in order that the sound should become a sign, 
the sign of an internal conception of the mind. “ Parrots, 
and several other birds,” says Locke, B. III. ch. 1. 
§ 1 and 2, “ will be taught to make articulate sounds distinct 
enough, which yet by no means are capable of language. 
Besides articulate sounds, therefore, it was further neces¬ 
sary that man should be able to me these sounds as signs of 
internal conceptions; and to make them stand as marks 
for the ideas within his own mind.” Prom whence it fol¬ 
lows, 1, that language is not the product of sounds, that 
is to say, of the organs and the senses, but of the intelli¬ 
gence ; 2, that the intelligence is not the product of 
language, but on the contrary, language is the product of in¬ 
telligence ; 3, that the greater part of words having, as 
Locke well remarked, an arbitrary signification, not only are 
languages the product of the intelligence, but they are 
even in great part the product of the will; while, in the 
system which has prevailed, both in the school of Locke 
and in a school altogether opposed to his, intelligence is 
made to come from language, in the latter, without much 
inquiring whence language comes, in the former, by making 
it come from the sensation and the sound, without sus¬ 
pecting that there is a gulf between the sound considered 
as a sound, and the sound considered as a sign, and that 
what makes it a sign is the power to comprehend it; that 
is, the mind, the intelligence. Sounds, and the organs 
which perceive and produce them, are the conditions of 
language; but its principle is intelligence. Here at least, 
we can give Locke the credit of not confounding the con¬ 
dition of a principle with the principle itself. His suc¬ 
cessors have not been as wise. 

I will now proceed to take up several important points 
of the third book, which appear to me doubtful or false. 
You will judge. 

I. Locke maintains (B. III. ch. I. § 5,) that “ words 
ultimately derive their origin from such [other words] as 
signify sensible things,” that is to say, in the last analysis 
all words have for their roots elementary words, which are 
p 2 


160 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


the signs of sensible ideas. In the first place, the absolute 
truth of this proposition may be denied. I will give you 
two words, and will ask you to reduce them to their prim¬ 
itive words expressive of sensible ideas. Take the word 
I or myself. This word, at least in all languages with 
which I am acquainted, is not susceptible of any reduction. 
It is undecomposable and primitive. It expresses no sen¬ 
sible idea; it represents nothing but the meaning which 
the intelligence attaches to it; it is a pure sign, without 
relation to any sensible sign. The word being is in precisely 
the same case; it is primitive and altogether intellectual. 
I know no language where the word to be is expressed 
by a corresponding word representing a sensible idea. 
It is not then true that all the roots of language are 
in the last analysis, signs of sensible ideas. Further, 
—even if it were true, and absolutely so, which is not 
the fact, let us see the only conclusion which could be 
justly drawn from it. Man is led at first by the action 
of all his faculties out of himself and towards the external 
world. The phenomena of the external world first strike 
his notice; these phenomena of course receive the first 
names; the first signs are drawn from sensible objects : and 
they are tinged in some sort with their colours. Then 
when man, subsequently, in falling back upon himself, 
apprehends more or less distinctly those intellectual phe¬ 
nomena, of which from the first he indeed had glimpses, 
but mixed and confused; and when he wishes to express 
these new phenomena of the mind and of thought, analogy 
leads him to connect the signs he is seeking for, with 
those he already possesses; for analogy is the law of all 
language forming or developed. Hence the metaphors 
into which analysis resolves the greater part of the signs 
of the most abstract moral ideas. But it does not follow 
at all, that the mind of man has hereby intended to mark 
the genesis of its ideas. Because the signs of certain 
ideas are analogous to the signs of certain other ideas, 
the conclusion does indeed follow that the former were 
formed after the others, and upon the others; but not in 
the least does it follow that the ideas of all these signs are 
in themselves identical or analogous. It is, however, by 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


161 


these analogies, purely verbal, and which, I repeat it, do 
not explain all the phenomena of language, that the school 
of Locke, taking advantage of the relations of words to 
each other, and of the sensible characteristics of the chief 
parts of their roots, has pretended, that all signs in the 
last analysis are derived from sensible signs ; and what is 
more, that all ideas are equally derived from sensible ideas. 
Here is the foundation of the great work of Horne Tooke, 
who in respect to grammar, has developed, with a hardy 
fidelity, the system already clearly indicated in the Essay 
on the Human Understanding (B. III. cli. I. § 5,) a system 
more or less in accordance with the necessary intervention 
of intelligence in the formation of language which Locke 
had himself set forth, and with the power of reflection as 
distinct from sensation in the acquisition of knowledge: “ It 
may also lead us a little towards the original of all our 
notions and knowledge, if we remark how great a 
dependance our words have on common sensible ideas; 
and how those, which are made use of to stand for 
actions and notions quite removed from sense, have 
their rise from thence, and from obvious sensible ideas 
are transferred to more abstruse significations, and 
made to stand for things that come not under the cogni¬ 
zance of our senses ; e. g. to imagine, apprehend, com¬ 
prehend, adhere, conceive, instil, disgust, disturbance, 
tranquillity, etc., are all words taken from the operations 
of sensible things, and applied to certain modes of thinking. 
Spirit, in its primary signification, is breath ; angel, a 
messenger: and I doubt not, but if we could trace them to 
their sources, we should find, in all languages, the names 
which stand for things that fall not under the senses, to 
have had their first rise from sensible ideas. By which 
we may give some kind of a guess what kind of notions they 
were, and whence derived, which filled their minds who were 
the first beginners of languages; and how nature, even in 
the naming of things, unawares suggested to men the 

originals and principles of all their knowledge- 

II. Another proposition of Locke : (B. III. ch. III. 

§ 8,) “ that the signification of words is perfectly arbitrary.” 
—I have already acknowledged that the greater part of 
P 3 



162 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


words are arbitrary, and come not only from the intelligence, 
but from the will. I am thoroughly persuaded that the 
greater part of words are conventional; but the question is, 
whether they are all so. The point to be investigated is, 
if there be absolutely not one root in language which carries 
of itself its own signification, which has a natural meaning, 
which is the foundation of subsequent convention, instead 
of coming from that convention. This is a great question 
which Locke has cut short with a single word, and which 
all his school have regarded as definitively settled; not even 
agitating it. And certainly even if I should grant, what 
I cannot grant without qualification, that all words are arbi¬ 
trary, I should expect the laws of the relation of words to 
each other. Language is not a simple collection of isolated 
words ; it is a system of manifold relations of words to each 
other. These various relations are all referable to invaria¬ 
ble relations, which constitute the foundation of every lan¬ 
guage, its grammar, the common and identical pail; of all 
languages, that is to say, universal grammar, w hich has its 
necessary laws derived from the very nature of the human 
mind. Now it is remarkable, that in the book on w r ords, 
Locke has never touched upon the relations of words, never 
upon syntax, nor the true foundation of language. There 
are a multitude of special reflections, and ingenious too, 
but no theory, no true grammar. It is by the school of Locke 
that the isolated remarks of their master have been formed 
into a grammatical system, true or false, which we shall 
not take up at present. 

III. We come now to another proposition of great impor¬ 
tance. Locke declares expressly, that what is called general 
and universal, is the work of the understanding, and that 
the real essence is nothing else then the nominal essence. 
B. III. ch. III. § 11 general and universal belong not 
to the real existence of things : but are the inventions and 
creatures of the understanding , made by it for its ow'n Hse, 
and concern only signs, whether words or ideas.” You 
see here the very foundation of nominalism. It is important 
to examine, though briefly, this proposition, which has 
become in the school of Locke an unquestionable principle, 
a 1 prejudice placed above all discussion. 

I perceive a book, and another book, and another book 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


163 


still; 1 neglect, by abstraction, their differences of position, 
of form, of size, of colour; I attend solely to their relations 
of resemblance which it is needless to enumerate, and I 
arrive by well-known processes, to the general idea of book : 
and that general idea is expressed for me by the word, book. 
Now what is there under this word P Neither more nor 
less than this: 1, the supposition that, besides the dif¬ 
ferences which distinguish the objects placed before my eyes, 
there are also in them resemblances, common qualities, 
without which no generalization would be possible ; 2, the 
supposition that there is a mind capable of recognizing 
these commcn qualities; and 3, the supposition that there 
are objects really existing, real books subjects of the common 
qualities. The word book represents all this: different 
books existing in nature, qualities common to those different 
books and a mind capable of uniting those common qualities 
and of raising them to their general idea. But indepen¬ 
dently of these different and real books, of their common 
qualities, and of the mind which conceives them, does the 
word book express, does it represent, anything existing, 
which is neither such or such a book, but book in itself? 
No, certainly not. The word book is then, nothing but a 
word, a pure word, which has no special type, no real object 
existing in nature; it is certain, then, that the general 
essence of book confounds itself with its nominal essence, 
that the essence of book is nothing but a word ; and here 
I am altogether on the side of Locke and of Nominalism. 

But are there not other general ideas ? Let us examine. 
I perceive a body, and at the same instant my mind cannot 
but take for granted that the body is in a certain par¬ 
ticular space, which is the place of this particular body. 
I perceive another body, and my mind cannot but believe 
that this other particular body is also in a particular space; 
and thus I arrive, and 1 arrive very soon, as you have before 
seen, without need of passing through a long series of 
experiments, at the general idea of space. It remains to 
ascertain if this general idea of space is exactly the same 
as the general idea of book, that is, if the word space in 
itself signifies nothing more than the word book. Let ns 
consult the human mind and the truth of internal facts. It 


164 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


is an unquestionable fact, that when you speak of book in 
general, you do not connect with the idea of book that of real 
existence. On the contrary, I ask if, when you speak of 
space in general, you do not add to this idea a belief in 
the reality of space P I ask if it is with space as with book; 
if you believe, for instance, that there are without you, 
nothing but particular spaces, that there is not an universal 
space, capable of embracing all possible bodies, a space one 
and the same with itself, of which different particular spaces 
are nothing but arbitrary portions and measures ? It is 
certain, that when you speak of space, you have the con- 
^ction that out of yourself there is something which is 
space ; as also when you speak of time, you have the con¬ 
viction that there is out of yourself something which is 
time, although you know neither the nature of time nor of 
space. Different times and different spaces, are not the 
constituent elements of space and time; time and space 
are not solely for you the collection of different times and 
different spaces. But you believe that time and space are 
in themselves, that it is not two or three spaces, two or 
three ages, which constitute space and time; for, every¬ 
thing derived from experience, whether in respect to space 
or to time, is finite, and the characteristic of space and of 
time for you is to be infinite, without beginning and 
without end; time resolves itself into eternity, and space 
into immensity. In a word, an invincible belief in the 
reality of time and of space, is attached by you to the 
general idea of time and space. This is what the human 
mind believes; this is what consciousness testifies. Here 
the phenomenon is precisely the reverse of that which I just 
before signalized; and while the general idea of a book 
does not suppose in the mind the conviction of the existence 
of any thing which is book in itself, here on the contrary, 
to the general idea of time and of space, is united the 
invincible conviction of the reality of something which is 
space and time. Without doubt, the word space is a pure 
word, as well as that of book; but the former word carries 
with it the supposition of something real in itself. Here 
is the root and ground of Realism. 

Nominalism thinks that general ideas are nothing but 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


165 


words; Realism, that general ideas suppose something real. 
On both sides there is equal truth, and equal error. With¬ 
out doubt, there are a great number of general ideas, which 
are purely collective, which represent nothing else than the 
common qualities of objects, without implying any existence 
[any general existence, any essence separate from those com¬ 
mon qualities, and the particular objects in which they 
reside;] and in this sense Nominalism is in the right. 

But it is certain, also, that there are general ideas, .which 
imply the supposition of the real existence of their object. 
Realism rests upon this basis, which is unquestionable. 
Now, observe the error of nominalism and of realism. 
The force of realism lies in general ideas, which invincibly 
imply the external existence of their objects; these are, as 
you know, universal and necessary general ideas. It starts 
from thence; but into the circle of these superior ideas, it 
attracts and envelops ideas which are purely collective and 
relative, born of abstraction and language. What it had 
the right to affirm of the former, it affirms also of the latter. 
It was right on one point; it would extend it to an abso¬ 
lute and exclusive right; that is its error. Nominalism, 
on its part, because it had demonstrated clearly that there 
are many general ideas which are only collective ideas, rela¬ 
tive and of mere words, concluded from this that all general 
ideas are nothing but general ideas, collective and relative, 
mere signs. The one converted things into words, the 
other converted words into things. Both are right in their 
starting-point, both go astray in their conclusion, through 
their excessive and absolute pretensions. In general, the 
Sensual school is nominalist, and the Ideal school is realist; 
and on both sides, as is always the case with the incomplete 
and exclusive, half right and half wrong. 

IV. I conclude with pointing out a proposition of Locke, 
or rather a tendency of the third book, which it is important 
to educe within just limits. Every where Locke attributes 
to words the greatest part of our errors; and if you ex¬ 
pound the master by his disciples, you will find in all the 
writers of the school of Locke, that all disputes are disputes 
about words ; that science is nothing but a language, 
(which is indeed true, if general ideas are nothing but 


166 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


words,) and of course, a language well formed, is a science 
well constructed. I wish to point out the exaggeration of 
these assertions. No doubt words have a great influence ; 
no doubt they have a very large share in our errors, and 
we should endeavour to make language as perfect as possible. 
Who questions it ? But the question is, whether all error 
is derived from language, and whether science is merely a 
well formed language ? And I answer, no. The causes 
of enpr are very different; they are both more extended 
and more profound. Levity, presumption, indolence, pre¬ 
cipitation, pride, thousands of moral causes, influence our 
judgments, independently of their external signs. Apart 
from all these moral causes, the human understanding is 
only a limited power; it is capable of truth ; it is also capa¬ 
ble of error. The vices of language may connect themselves 
with these moral causes and aggravate them, but do not con¬ 
stitute them. If you look more closely, you will see that the 
greater part of the disputes, which seem at first to be dis¬ 
putes about words, are at the bottom, disputes about things. 
Humanity is too serious to be excited, and often shed its best 
blood, for verbal quarrels. Wars do not turn on disputes 
about words ; and I say the same of other conflicts, theo¬ 
logical and scientific controversies, whose depth and impor¬ 
tance is altogether misconceived, when they are resolved 
into pure logomachies. Certainly every science should seek 
for a well-constructed language ; but it were to take the 
effect for the cause, to suppose that there are well established 
sciences, because there are well-formed languages. The 
contrary is true. Sciences have well-formed languages, when 
they themselves are well-formed. Mathematics, physics, 
chemistry, are sciences well established, and they have very 
well constructed languages. It is because in mathematics 
the ideas have been perfectly determined, that the simplicity, 
strictness and precision of the ideas have produced, and 
necessarily do produce, strictness, precision and simplicity 
of signs. Otherwise it would be implied that precise ideas 
express themselves in confused language; and even if it 
were so for a while, in the infancy of a language, yet soon, 
the precision, strictness, and fixedness of the ideas would 
reform the vagueness and obscurity of language. The ex- 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


167 


eellence of the chemical and physical sciences comes ob¬ 
viously from well made experiments. Facts having been 
observed with precision, and described with fidelity, rea¬ 
soning could apply itself to these facts with certainty, and 
deduce from them legitimate consequences and applications. 
From hence arose, and from hence should arise, a good sys*- 
tem of signs. Make the contrary supposition; suppose the 
experiments badly made, then the more strict the reasoning, 
founded upon these false data, should be the more errors it 
would deduce, and the more length and breadth it would 
give to the errors. Suppose that the theories resulting from 
these imperfect and vicious experiments should be repre¬ 
sented by signs the most simple, the most analogous, the 
best determined; of what importance would the goodness 
of the signs be, while under this excellent language was 
concealed a chimera or an error ? Take the science of 
medicine. It is a complaint that this science has made 
so little advancement. What do you think should be done 
to bring it up from the regions of hypothesis, and elevate 
it to the rank of a science ? Do you believe that at the 
outset you could, by a language well constructed, reform 
psychology and medicine ? Or do you not believe that the 
true remedy is experiment, and along with experiment the 
strict employment of reason ? A good system of signs will 
then come of itself; it could not come before, or it would 
come to no purpose. It is the same with respect to philo¬ 
sophy. It has been incessantly repeated, that the structure 
of the human mind is entire in that of language, and that 
philosophy would be completed the day that a philosophical 
language should be achieved. And starting from this point, 
some have endeavoured to arrange a certain philosophicallan- 
guage more or less clear, easy and elegant; and they have 
believed that philosophy was completed. But it did not 
answer; it was very far from answering the purpose. This 
prejudice has even retarded its progress, by taking off the 
mind from experiment. Philosophical science, like every 
science of observation and of reasoning, lives by observa¬ 
tions accurately made and deductions rigorously strict. 
It is there, and not elsewhere, we are to look for all the 
future progress of philosophy. 


CRITICAL EXAMINATION 


OF 

LOCKE’S ESSAY 


ON 


THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 


CHAPTER SIXTH. 


Q 




CONTENTS OF CHAPTER VI. 


Examination of the fourth Book of the Essay on the Human Un¬ 
derstanding, on Knowledge.—That knowledge, according to Locke, 
depends : 1, upon Ideas ; 2, upon Ideas, in so far as they are con¬ 
formed to their objects.—That the conformity or non-conformity of 
ideas with their objects, as the foundation of truth or falsehood in 
regard to knowlege, is not with Locke merely a metaphor, but a 
real theory.—Examination of this theory of ideas, 1, in relation to 
the external world, to secondary qualities, to primary qualities, to 
the substratum of these qualities, to space, to time, etc. ; 2, in re¬ 
lation to the spiritual world.—Appeal to Revelation. Paralogism 
of Locke. 


CHAPTER VI. 


Having found all the ideas which are in the human un¬ 
derstanding, their origin, their genesis, their mechanism and 
characters; the signs also by which we express, exhibit and 
unfokl them;—the next thing is to inquire what man does 
with these ideas, what knowledge he derives from them, 
what is the extent of this knowledge, and what its limits. 
This is the subject of the fourth book of the Essay on the 
Human Understanding. It treats of Knowledge, that is, 
not merely of ideas taken in themselves, but in relation to 
their objects, in relation to essences. Eor knowledge, in 
its humblest degree, as well as in its highest flight, reaches 
to that; it evidently attains to God, to bodies, and to 
ourselves. Now here at the outset, a previous question 
comes up. Knowledge extends to beings : the fact is un¬ 
questionable ; but how does this take place ? Departing 
from ideas which are within it, how does the understanding 
arrive at beings which are without it ? What bridge is 
there, between the faculty of knowing, which is within us, 
and the objects of knowledge which are without us ? When 
we shall have arrived on the other side, we will take counsel 
what course we ought to follow, and where we can go; 
but first it is necessary to know how to make the passage. 
Before entering upon ontology, we must know how to pass 
from psychology to ontology, what is the foundation, and 
the legitimate foundation of knowledge. It is this prelimi¬ 
nary question which we shall first impose upon Locke. 

The fourth book of the Essay on the Human Understand¬ 
ing begins by recognizing that all knowledge depends upon 
ideas: 

B. IV. Of Knowledge ; ch. I. Of Knowledge in gene¬ 
ral. § 1 : “ Since the mind, in all its thoughts and 


172 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


reasonings hath no other immediate object but its own 
ideas, which it alone does or can contemplate, it is evident 
that our knowledge is only conversant about them.” 

Now you have seen that Locke recognizes, and rightly, 
that ideas in themselves considered, are always true. It is 
always true that we have the idea which we have, which 
is actually under the eye of consciousness. Be this idea a 
chimera, a fairy, a centaur, yet, as an idea, it is always 
what we have it, and in this respect the idea cannot be 
false, it cannot but be true; or rather, in strictness, it is 
neither false nor true. Where, then, can error begin, and 
where does truth reside]? Both the one and the other 
evidently reside, and can reside, only in the supposition of 
the mind that the idea does, or does not refer to an object, 
to such or such an object really existing in nature. It is 
in this reference or relation, that truth or error lies for the 
human mind. If this relation can be found out, and fasten¬ 
ed upon, human knowledge is possible; if this relation 
cannot be apprehended, human knowledge is impossible. 
Now supposing that this relation is possible, what is it, 
and in what does it consist ? On this point it is our task 
to interrogate Locke 'with precision and severity; for here 
should be the foundation of the theory of the true or false 
in regard to human knowledge, that is, the foundation of 
the fourth book which we have to examine. 

Throughout the whole of the fourth book, as at the close 
of the second, Locke expressly declares that the true or 
false in ideas, about which all knowledge is conversant 
consists in the supposition of a relation between these ideas 
and their object; and everywhere also he expressly declares 
that this relation is and can be nothing but a relation of 
agreement or disagreement. The idea is conformed to its 
object, or it is not conformed. If conformed, knowledge 
is not only possible, but it is true; for it rests upon a true 
idea, an idea conformed to its object; if the idea is not 
conformed to its object, the idea is false, and the knowledge 
derived from it is equally false. This in substance is what 
we find from one end to the other of the fourth book of 
the Essay on the Human Understanding, concerning know¬ 
ledge. The same also we find at every step in the last 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 173 

six chapters of the second book, where Locke treats of true 
and false ideas. 

B. II. ch. XXXII. § 4 : “ Whenever the mind refers 
any of its ideas to anything extraneous to them, they are 
then capable to be called true or false. Because the mind 
in such a reference makes a tacit supposition of their con¬ 
formity to that thing.” 

B. IV. ch. IV. § 3 : “ It is evident, the mind knows 
not things immediately, but only by the intervention of the 
ideas it has of them. Our knowledge therefore is real, only 
so far as there is a conformity between our ideas and the 
reality of things.” 

These two passages are positive; they clearly reduce the 
question of truth or falsehood in respect to knowledge, to 
that of the conformity or non-conformity of ideas with their 
objects. 

But this necessity of the conformity of an idea with its 
object in order to its truth, is it in Locke a real theory, or 
is it merely a mode of speaking, simply a metaphor, more 
or less happy P In the first place, if it is a metaphor, I 
would ask what then is the. theory couched under this 
metaphor, and in what place in Locke we are to find that 
theory once expressly declared ? Nowhere can I find any¬ 
thing but the metaphor itself. Again, if in the entire 
absence of any other theory, the two passages which I have 
just cited do not suffice to prove that the necessity of the 
conformity of an idea with its object in order to constitute 
its truth, is not a metaphor, but an express theory, I can 
adduce here a multitude of other passages which leave no 
doubt in this respect. Thus when near the end of the 
second book, Locke treats of ideas as real or chimerical, as 
complete or incomplete, he rests upon his theory of the 
conformity or non-conformity of ideas with their objects. 

B. II. ch. XXX. § 1: “ Real ideas are conformable to 
their archetypes. First real ideas, I mean such as have a 
foundation in nature; such has have a conformity with the 
real being and existence of things, or with their archetypes. 
fantastical or chimerical , I call such as have no foundation 
in nature, nor have any conformity to that reality of being 
to which they are tacitly referred as their archetypes.” 

Q 3 


174 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

Now what is an adequate or inadequate idea ? An ade¬ 
quate idea should, according to Locke, be that which is 
completely conformed to its archetype; an inadequate idea, 
that which is conformed only in part. 

Ibid. ch. XXXI. § 1: “ Those I call adequate , which 
perfectly represent those archetypes which the mind sup¬ 
poses them taken from, which it intends them to stand for, 
and to which it refers them. Inadequate ideas are such, 
which are but a partial or incomplete representation of those 
archetypes to which they are referred.” 

Thus the theory of complete or incomplete ideas rests upon 
the theory of real and chimerical ideas, which also rests upon 
that of true or false ideas, and that consists altogether in 
the theory of the conformity of the idea to the object. 
This is a point of so much importance, that to take away 
all uncertainty, I will adduce a passage where Locke lays 
down the problem by itself, and the precise form in which 
he lays it down, excludes all ambiguity in the solution which 
he gives : 

JB. IV. ch. IV. § 3 : “ But what shall be here the cri¬ 
terion P How shall the mind, when it perceives nothing 
but its own ideas, know that they agree with things 
themselves ? This, though it seems not to want difficulty, 
yet I think there be two sorts of ideas that we may be 
assured agree with things.” 

§ 4 : “ Simple ideas carry with them all the conformity 
which is intended, or which our state requires; for they 
represent things to us under those appearances which they 
are fitted to produce in us.” And a little further on : 
“ this conformity between our simple ideas and the existence 
of things, is sufficient for real knowledge.” 

It is impossible to explain anything more distinctly and 
directly. It is not, then, a mere way of speaking, a meta¬ 
phor thrown off in passing; it is altogether a theory, a 
system. Let us examine it seriously. 

See, then, by it, truth and error, reality and chimera, 
resolved into the representation or non-representation of 
the object by the idea, into conformity or non-conformity 
of the idea to its object. There is knowledge upon this 
condition, and upon this alone, that the idea represents 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


175 


its object, is conformed to it. But upon what condition 
does an idea represent its object, and be conformed to it ? 
Upon this condition, that the idea resemble its object, that 
the idea have to its object the relation of a copy to its ori¬ 
ginal. Weigh the force of the words: the conformity of 
an idea to its object can signify nothing else but the resem¬ 
blance of that idea, taken as a copy, to its object, taken as 
the original. This is exactly what Locke expresses by the 
word archetypes , which he uses to designate the objects of 
ideas. Now if the conformity of the idea to its object is 
nothing but the resemblance of the copy to its original, to 
its archetype, I say that in such a case, the idea is taken 
solely as an image. The idea must evidently be an image 
in order positively to resemble anything, in order to be 
able to represent anything. See then the representative 
idea reduced to an image. Now reflect closely, and you 
will see that every image implies something material. Can 
an image of anything immaterial be conceived? Every 
image is necessarily sensible and material, or it is nothing 
but a metaphor, a supposition which we have put aside. 
Thus in the last analysis, to say that there is knowledge 
where the idea is conformed to its object, and that no 
knowledge is possible but upon this condition, is to pre¬ 
tend that there is no knowledge but upon the condition 
that the idea of a thing is the image of that thing, that is 
to say, its material image. All knowledge, then, is in¬ 
volved in the following question : Have we in respect to 
beings, the ideas which represent them, which resemble 

them, which are the images, and the material images of them, 
or have we not such images ? If we have, knowledge is 
possible ; if not, it is impossible. Now in point of fact, 
human knowledge embraces both the external world, and 
the soul, and God. If, then, knowledge of these objects 
is possible and real, it is only upon the condition just laid 
down, namely that we have of these beings, ideas which 
represent them, which resemble them, which are images 
of them, and once again, material images. Have we, 

then, or have we not idea-images, material images, of God, 
of the soul, and of the external world ? This is the ques¬ 
tion. Let us first apply it to the external world. It is 


176 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


tlipre, above all, that the theory of Locke would appear 
most admissible. Let us see what is the soundness and 
value of it even upon this ground. 

The idea of the external world is the idea of body. 
Bodies are known to us only by their qualities. These 
qualities are primary or secondary. By the secondary 
qualities of bodies is understood, you know, those which 
might not exist, and yet the body itself not cease to exist; 
for instance, the qualities of which we acquire the idea by 
the sense of smelling, of hearing, and of taste, by all the 
senses, in short, except unquestionably that of touch, and 
perhaps also that of sight. The primary qualities of 
bodies are those which are given to us, as the fundamental 
attributes of bodies, without which bodies could not for us 
exist. The eminently primary quality is solidity, which 
implies more or less extension, which directly implies form. 
We have the conviction that every body is solid, extended, 
has form. We are moreover convinced that bodies have 
the property of causing in us those particular modifica¬ 
tions which are called savour, sound, odour, perhaps also the 
modification called colour. Locke agrees to all this ; it is 
he who chiefly contributed to extend in science the distinc¬ 
tion between the primary and secondary qualities of bodies. 
It is not our object to go any further in this distinction. 
Let us now see how Locke explains the acquisition of ideas 
of the primary and of secondary qualities : 

B. II. ch. VIII. § II : “ How primary qualities 

produce their ideas. “ The next thing to be considered is, 
how bodies produce ideas in us ; and that is manifestly by 
impulse, the only way which we can conceive bodies to 
operate in.” 

§ 12. “If, then, external objects be not united to our 
minds, when they produce ideas therein, and yet we per¬ 
ceive these original qualities in such of them as singly fall 
under our senses, it is evident, that some motion must be 
thence continued by our nerves or animal spirits, by some 
parts of our bodies to the brain or the seat of sensation, 
there to produce in our minds the particular ideas we have 
of them. And since the extension, figure, number, and 
motion of bodies of an observable bigness, may be per- 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


177 


ceived at a distance by the sight, it is evident that some 
singly imperceptible bodies must come from them to the 
eyes, and thereby convey to the brain some motion, which 
produces these ideas which we have of them in us.” 

§ 13. “ Hoiv secondary qualities produce their ideas.” 

“ After the same manner that the ideas of these original 
qualities are produced in us we may conceive that the ideas 
of secondary qualities are also produced, namely, by the 
operations of insensible particles on our senses. For it 
being manifest, that there are bodies, and good store of 
bodies, each whereof are so small, that we cannot by any 
of our senses discover either their bulk, figure, or motion, 
as is evident in the particles of the air and water, and 
others extremely smaller than those, perhaps as much 
smaller than the particles of air and water, as the particles 
of air and water are smaller than peas or hailstones: let 
us suppose at present, that the different motions and figures, 
bulk and number, of such particles, affecting the several 
organs of our senses, produce in us those different sensa¬ 
tions, which we have from the colours and smells of bodies; 
e. g. that a violet, by the impulse of such insensible par¬ 
ticles of matter of peculiar figures and bulks, and in different 
degrees and modifications of their motions, causes the ideas 
of the blue colour and sweet scent of that flower to be pro¬ 
duced in our minds; it being no more impossible to con¬ 
ceive that God should annex such ideas to such motions, 
with which they have no similitude, than that he should, 
annex the idea of pain to the motion of a piece of steel 
dividing our flesh, with which that idea hath no resem¬ 
blance.” 

§ 14. “ What I have said concerning colours and smells 

may be understood also of tastes, and sounds, and other 
the like sensible qualities-.” 

If you follow up this whole theory to its principle, so 
imperfectly discerned and unfolded, you will find that it 
rests in the last analysis upon the supposition that, as 
bodies act upon each other only by contact, and conse¬ 
quently by impulsion, so in the same way the mind like¬ 
wise cannot be brought into connection with corporeal 
things but upon the same condition, that there should be 



178 


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contact between the mind and body, and of course impulse 
of the one upon the other. Now in sensible ideas, which 
are involuntary, and in which, according to Locke, the 
mind is passive, the impulse ought to come from the body 
upon the mind, and not from the mind upon the body ; 
and the contact cannot take place directly, but indirectly 
by means of particles. Thus the necessity of contact in¬ 
volves that of particles, which emitted by bodies, obtain 
admittance by the organs into the brain, and there intro¬ 
duce into the mind what are called sensible ideas. The 
starting point of the whole theory is the necessity of con¬ 
tact, and in its result it comes out to depend upon inter¬ 
mediate particles and their action. These particles are, 
in other terms, the sensible species of the Peripatetic 
Scholasticism, to which modem physics has done justice. 
There is at the present day no more talk about sonorous, 
visible, tangible species : nor can there of course be any 
more question about their emission ; nor consequently 
about the principle by which they were engendered, namely, 
the necessity of contact and impulse as the condition of ac¬ 
quiring sensible ideas. All this at the present day is only 
an obsolete hypothesis, which it would be superfluous to 
stop to refute. Supposing sensible ideas, however, to be 
thus formed, once obtained under this condition, which is 
yet a chimera, let us see in what these ideas differ from 
each other. 

According to Locke, the ideas which we have of the pri¬ 
mary qualities of matter have this peculiarity, that they re¬ 
semble their object; while the ideas we have of secondary 
qualities have this as their peculiarity, that they do not 
resemble their objects: 

B. II. ch. VIII. § 15 : “ The ideas of primary qualities 
of bodies are resemblances of them, and their patterns do 
really exist in the bodies themselves; but the ideas pro¬ 
duced in us by those secondary qualities, have no resem¬ 
blance of them at all.” 

The ideas of secondary qualities do not then resemble 
those qualities. Very well; I am, therefore, according to 
the theory of Locke, to conclude of course, that the ideas 
of secondary qualities are mere chimeras, and that we have 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


179 


no knowledge of these qualities. In fact, recollect that 
according to Locke, all knowledge depends upon ideas, and 
that there is no knowledge except as far as the idea resem¬ 
bles its object. Now by the acknowledgement of Locke 
himself, the ideas of secondary qualities do not resemble 
these qualities ; therefore these ideas do not contain any 
knowledge. It cannot be said that we have indeed a know¬ 
ledge, though incomplete, of the secondary qualities of 
bodies. If Locke had intended to say this, he should have 
said, according to his general theory, that the ideas of 
secondary qualities do represent, though incompletely, their 
objects. But he says they do not represent them at all in 
any degree. They do not therefore involve any, even the 
most imperfect knowledge; they contain no knowledge; 
they are pure chimeras, like the ideas of fairies, of centaurs, 
etc. This consequence is necessitated by the theory of 
Locke. But is it in accordance with facts; which it is our 
business to explain, and not to destroy ? Is it in fact true, 
that w r e have no knowledge of the secondary qualities of 
bodies ? Far otherwise. The secondary qualities of bodies, 
smell, sound, taste and colour, are for us decidedly real 
properties in bodies, to which we attribute the power of 
exciting in us certain modifications or sensations. We are 
not only conscious of these sensations, but we believe that 
they have causes, and that these causes are in the bodies. 
As we could however conceive of bodies independently of 
these causes or powers, properties or qualities, we call these 
qualities secondary. We know them, I grant, only as causes 
of our sensations, while we are ignorant of their intimate 
essence : but still we know them in this character and de¬ 
gree, and it is a real knowledge undeniably found in all 
mankind. Now do not forget that according to the theory 
of Locke, knowledge is always subject to this condition, 
that the idea upon which knowledge depends shall repre¬ 
sent its object. You have undeniably the idea of the se¬ 
condary qualities of bodies, so far forth as causes of your 
sensations. Now observe that according to the theory of 
Locke, this idea, which you all have, and upon which is 
founded almost all your conduct, and of human life at 
large,—this idea cannot be true, cannot be the foundation 


180 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


of any legitimate knowledge, except upon condition that 
it shall be conformed to its object, to the causes of your 
sensations, to the secondary qualities of bodies. And when 
I say conformed to them, recollect distinctly that the con¬ 
dition of conformity is nothing less than that of resem¬ 
blance, and that the condition of resemblance is nothing 
less than that of being an image, a sensible and material 
image ; for there is no immaterial image. The question, 
then, resolves itself to this: whether you have, or have not 
a material image of the secondary qualities of bodies, that 
is to say, of those properties of bodies which cause in you 
the sensations of colour, sound, taste and smell. Let us 
see, then, what the material image of a cause can be. A 
cause, in so far forth as a cause, (and the secondary pro¬ 
perties or qualities of bodies are nothing else,) has no form, 
no colour; what material image then can be made of it ? 
A cause, whatever it be, whether you place it in the mind, 
or in what we call matter, is always a cause, it is never 
anything but a cause; and so far forth as it is a cause, it 
falls neither under the hand, nor the eye; it falls under 
none of our senses. It is then something of which in 
strictness you can have no sensible idea, no idea-image, no 
material image. Then, since you have not, and cannot 
have the image of a cause, and since secondary qualities of 
bodies are given you only as causes, it follows that you 
cannot have any true idea, any legitimate knowledge of the 
secondary qualities of bodies. It follows in strictness that 
you cannot have any knowledge of them, legitimate or ille¬ 
gitimate, and that these qualities ought to be to you as 
though they had never been; since according to the theory 
of Locke, you could not have attained them except by 
images more or less faithful which you had formed of them, 
images however which in this case are altogether and abso¬ 
lutely wanting. 

The denial of the secondary qualities of bodies is then, 
the inevitable result of the theory, that every idea, to be 
true, must represent its object. This result is unavoidable; 
experience however gives the lie to it, and in so doing, 
refutes the principle. The ideas of the secondary qualities 
do not resemble their objects in any way, and nevertheless 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


181 


they contain a certain knowledge; it is not therefore true 
that all knowledge supposes the resemblance of the idea to 
its object. 

The theory of Locke breaks to pieces upon the secondary 
qualities of bodies ; let us see if it will be more fortunate 
in respect to primary qualities. 

Solidity is by eminence the primary quality. Solidity 
with its degrees, hardness or softness, penetrability or 
impenetrability, envelops extension, which contains size 
and form ; these are chiefly the primary qualities of bodies. 
Locke declares expressly that the ideas of primary qualities 
resemble those qualities ; this is their title of legitimacy in 
his view. This theory at first sight, might seem to be true 
in regard to one point, that which respects form. In fact, 
the form of objects which pertains to extension, which also 
pertains to solidity, paints itself upon the retina. Expe¬ 
rience attests this, and the conformity of these images to 
their objects, seems indeed the foundation of the truth of 
the ideas which we have of the form of objects. But even 
here it is only a false semblance. 

If the resemblance of the image on the retina to the form 
of the external object, is the foundation of our knowledge 
of the form of that object, it follows that this knowledge 
cannot be acquired, and never could have been acquired, 
but upon the following conditions : 

1. That we should know there is some image upon the 
retina. 

2. That, by some process, comparing the image upon the 
retina to the external object, we should find the image upon 
the retina, in fact, similar to the object, as to form; then, 
and only then, by the theory of Locke, should we be certain 
that the idea which we have of the form of this object is 
true, and our knowledge in regard to it certain. 

All these conditions are necessary ; but are they fulfilled 
in the fact of our knowledge of the forms of external 
objects ? By no means. In the first place, the knowledge 
of the image upon the retina is altogether a subsequent 
acquisition of experience and of psychology. The first men 
who believed that they had before their eyes figured bodies, 
knew nothing in the world about the the images upon the 


182 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


retina. Still further were they from inquiring whether these 
images, of which they knew nothing, were conformed to 
the forms of the bodies which they knew ; and consequently 
the condition imposed upon the human mind of knowing 
first the image upon the retina, and then of verifying the 
conformity of this image with its object, is not the process 
which the mind, left to itself and without any system, 
naturally employs, in order to know the forms of bodies. 
Again, observe that if the accurate painting of the form of 
the object upon the retina, explains the secret of the 
perception of that form, it is necessary that this picture, 
this image, should pass from the retina to the optic nerve, 
and from the optic nerve to the brain, which Locke calls 
the audience chamber of the soul; and from this audience 
chamber it must gain admittance to the mind itself. But 
this process is arrested at every step. From the retina, 
the image must pass to the brain by the optic nerve. Now, 
who does not know that the optic nerve is situated in an 
obscure region impenetrable to the light P The optic nerve 
is in the dark, no image can be painted on it, and our 
image is already lost. Further, the brain, that audience 
chamber of the soul, is also in the dark; the soul which, 
according to the theory of Locke, must observe the retina, 
in order there to meet with the image of the form of a body, 
which must discern this image and its conformity to the 
original, can make this observation neither upon the optic 
nerve nor the brain. 

We have, so to say, shut up all the avenues of the soul 
against the hypothesis of the idea-image; the idea-image 
is, then, nothing but a chimera in the mind. In the per¬ 
ception of the form of objects there are not, 1, figured 
objects; 2, a mind capable of perceiving the figures of these 
objects; 3, an intermediate image between the real form of 
the objects and the mind. There are nothing but figured 
objects, and a mind endowed with the faculty of perceiving 
them with their forms. The existence of the image of the 
figure or objects upon the retina is a real fact, which is in¬ 
deed the previous condition of the perception of visible ap¬ 
pearances, but not the foundation of this perception; which 
precedes, but does not in any way constitute nor explain 


ELEMENTS OE PSYCHOLOGY. 


183 


it. The existence of the figure of objects upon the retina, 
which is simply an external condition of the phenomena of 
vision, being transformed into a complete explanation of 
these phenomena, is the source of the hypothesis of the 
idea-image, so far as respects the perception of the forms 
of objects. It has also still another source. Not only is 
the mind endowed with the faculty of perceiving the forms 
of present objects, whenever certain organic conditions are 
fulfilled; but also when these objects are absent, it is en¬ 
dowed with the faculty of recalling them, not only of know¬ 
ing what they were, but of representing them to itself as 
they were, and with the forms which they had been per¬ 
ceived to have while they were present. The memory ac¬ 
tually has this imaginative power; we may imagine objects 
altogether as we perceive them; the fact is unquestionable. 
But in the imagination of the forms of absent objects, as in 
the perception of the forms of present objects, there are 
only two terms, the absent objects, and the mind which is 
able to represent them though absent; or rather in this 
case, there is really nothing but the mind which, in the 
absence of the objects, recalls them with their forms, as if 
they were present before it. Now in the mind which repre¬ 
sents past objects to itself, poetry can indeed detach the 
representation from the objects, and consider it apart as a 
proper element subsisting by itself. This is a right of 
poetry, but not of philosophical analysis, which can never 
lawfully convert abstractions into realities. Abstraction 
taken for reality, the participle or adjective converted into 
a substantive, is, then, the second source of the hypothesis 
of the idea-image ; not to refer again to the vicious analogies, 
of the conditions of communication between bodies, ap¬ 
plied to the mind. 

But to go further. Our discussion has thus far respected 
only the form of external objects; but how will it be if we 
come to the other primary qualities of bodies ; for instance, 
the primary quality par excellence , namely solidity ? Would 
you dare revive the scholastic hypothesis of the tangible 
species, in order to provide a companion to the visual image 
upon the retina ? Would you put this tangible species upon 
the mysterious paths of the nerves and brain which the 


184 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


image of forms could not traverse? Be it so. Suppose a 
tangible species; suppose this idea-image of solidity arrived 
at the mind, and there ]et us see if it satisfies the funda¬ 
mental condition of the theory of Locke. Let us see whe¬ 
ther it is conformed, or not conformed to its model, to 
solidity itself. What is solidity; We have shown that it 
is resistance. Where there is no resistance, there is to us 
nothing but ourselves. Where resistance begins, there be¬ 
gins for us something besides ourselves, the outward, the 
external, nature, the world. Now if solidity is something 
which resists, it is a resisting cause; and we are here, again, 
in respect to the primary quality of bodies, as before in 
respect to their secondary qualities, led back to the idea of 
cause. Here, then, also, in order that we may have a legiti¬ 
mate knowledge of the resisting cause, of solidity, it is 
necessary that we should have an idea of it, which is con¬ 
formed to it, which is similar to it, an image, a material 
image of the resisting cause. Such according to Locke, is 
the systematic condition of the primary quality of body. 
But I have shown that there cannot be a material image of 
any cause, and of course not of a resisting cause, of solidity, 
the fundamental quality of body. 

Thus we have no longer a legitimate idea of the primary 
qualities of bodies, any more than of their secondary quali¬ 
ties, if we are to have it only upon the condition of the 
idea being a material image of its object. But we are not 
yet done. We are yet only at the threshold of the external 
world. Not only has body primary and secondary qualities, 
which I have just shown to be incompatible with the the¬ 
ory of Locke; but moreover, we believe that under these 
qualities, there is something which is the subject of them, 
something which has not only a real, but a permanent ex¬ 
istence* while these qualities are in perpetual motion and 
alteration. We all believe in the existence of a subject, of 
a substance for these qualities. Now in the theory of 
Locke, the idea of this substance is not legitimate, unless 
it be conformed to its object, that is, to the substance of 
bodies ; and the idea, to be conformed to its object, must 
be a material image. But I ask if it is possible to have a 
material image of substance ? It is obviously impossible. 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


185 


Then you have no idea of substance, and of the reality of 
bodies. 

Not only are you convinced of the real and substantial 
existence of bodies, but you all believe that these bodies 
of which the fundamental attribute is solidity, resistance, 
are somewhere, in place, in space. You all have the idea of 
space. Now you cannot have it except on one condition, 
(according to Locke,) that the idea you have of it represents 
it, is its material image. But it is, we have seen, one of 
the characteristics of space, that it cannot be confounded 
with bodies which fill and measure it, but do not constitute 
it. It is, then, a fortiori, impossible that you should have 
a material image of that which has no material existence, 
when you cannot have one of the bodies, and of their funda¬ 
mental and accessory attributes. 

It is the same in regard to time. You believe that the 
motions of bodies, and the succession of these different 
motions, take place in time, and you do not confound the 
succession of the motions of bodies with time itself, which 
is indeed measured but not constituted by this succession, 
any more than the aggregate of bodies constitute space. 
You have the idea of time as distinct from all succession. 
If you have it, by the theory of Locke, it is under the con¬ 
dition of having an idea conformed to it, an idea-image. 
But you cannot have an idea-image of time, since time is 
distinct from the motion of bodies and does not fall under 
any of the senses;—you cannot therefore have a legitimate 
idea of time. 

I might pursue this criticism still further, but I believe 
I have gone sufficiently far to demonstrate that, if relatively 
to the external world, our ideas are not true except upon 
condition that they are representative ideas conformed to 
their objects, material images of their objects, we should 
have no legitimate idea of the external world, neither of the 
secondary nor primary qualities of matter, nor of their sub¬ 
ject, nor of space, nor of time. The theory of a material 
image results in nothing less than the destruction of all 
legitimate knowledge of matter and of the external world. 

The objections which I have just presented are so natural 
and so simple, that Locke could not even lay down the 
B 3 


186 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


problem as he has done, without partially suspecting them, 
and they sufficiently pressed upon him to shake his convic¬ 
tion of the existence of the external world. He does not 
precisely call it in question, but he acknowledges that upon 
the foundation of the representative idea, (the only one 
which he conceived,) the knowledge of bodies has not perfect 
certainty; he thinks however that it goes beyond simple 
probability. “ But yet, if alter all,” says Locke, “ any one 
will question the existence of all things, or our knowledge 
of anything, I must desire him to consider that we have 
such an assurance of the existence of things without us, as 
is sufficient to direct us in the attaining the good, and 
avoiding the evil, which is caused by them; which is the 
important concernment we have of being made acquainted 
with them.” B. IV. ch. 10, § 8. This is almost the lan¬ 
guage of scepticism. Locke, however, is not sceptical in 
regard to the existence of bodies. He belongs to the 
great family of peripatetics and sensualists, in which the 
theory of sensible species had the authority of a dogma, and 
the office of giving and explaining the external world. 
Out of the sensible species, the seventeenth century, and 
Locke in particular, have made sensible ideas, provided with 
all the qualities of those species, representatives of their ob¬ 
jects, and emanating from them. There is then no idea¬ 
listic tendency in the theory of Locke. On the contrary, 
Locke is persuaded that these ideas, so far forth as they 
are representative, are the only solid foundation from 
which the knowledge of external objects can be derived. 
Only he finds, and half acknowledges, that contrary to 
his wish, the peripatetic hypothesis of species, transformed 
into the modern t heory of sensible ideas, turns out against 
his design; and that although this hypothesis has evi¬ 
dently a material character, since his ideas are necessarily 
material images, yet it is convicted of inability legiti¬ 
mately to give us matter. Judge, then, how it must be in 
regard to the spiritual world, the soul, and God. I shall 
be brief. Recollect the general principle of Locke. We 
have no legitimate knowledge of anything, but upon con¬ 
dition that the ideas we have of it, be conformed to their 
object. Now all the world believe in the existence of the 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


187 


soul, that is to say, in the existence of something in us which 
feels, which wills, which thinks. Even those who do not 
believe inthe spiritual existence of this subject, have never 
called in question the existence of its faculties, the existence 
of the sensibility, for example, or that of will, or of thought. 
Reflect, then, you have no legitimate knowledge of thought, 
of volition, of sensibility, but upon the condition that the 
ideas you have of them are representative, and that these 
ideas are images, and of course material images. See 
then into what an abyss of absurdities we are thrown. In 
order to know thought and volition, which are immaterial, 
it is necessary that we should have a material image which 
resembles them. But what is a material image of thought, 
and of volition ? It is an absurdity even in regard to the 
sensibility. But the absurdity is, if possible, still greater in 
regard to the substance of these faculties, in regard to the 
soul, and then in regard to the unity and identity of this 
soul, and then in regard to the time in which the operations 
of these mental faculties take place, sensations, volitions, 
and thoughts. 

See, then, the spiritual world fallen away and lost, as 
well as the material. Simply from the condition that we 
have no legitimate ideas of our faculties and of their sub¬ 
ject, unless these ideas be material images of them, it 
evidently results that we have no legitimate knowledge of 
our soul, and of its faculties, of our whole internal being, 
intellectual and moral. Here the difficulty seems even 
much greater than in regard to the material world, or at 
least the successor of Bacon and of Hobbes is more startled 
by it. In respect to the material world, he had acknow¬ 
ledged that his theory was liable to some objections, but these 
objections did not seem to him insurmountable, nor to go far 
enough to deprive us of a certain knowledge of the material 
world, sufficient for our wants. Hereby he pretended to open 
the door only to a semi-scepticism. It was without doubt 
a weakness ; for the idea of Locke, a material image, not 
in any manner representing bodies, neither complete nor 
incomplete, he ought not to have admitted any idea of 
bodies; he ought to have gone on to absolute scepticism. 
Locke, however, stops short, both from the good sense 


188 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


and from the evidence which, in his school, surrounds the 
senses and the physical world. But when he comes to 
the spiritual world, to which the Sensual School is 
much less attached, the arguments which naturally rise up 
against him from his theory, strike him more forcibly, and 
he declares (B. IV. cli. XI. § 12,) that “we can no 
more know, that there are finite spirits really existing, by 
the idea we have of such beings in our minds, than by 
the ideas any one has of fairies, or centaurs, he can come 
to know that things answering those ideas do really exist.” 
Here at would seem is absolute scepticism; you may 
think, perhaps, that the final conclusion of Locke will be, 
that there is no knowledge of finite spirits, nor consequent¬ 
ly of our soul, nor of any of its faculties ; for the objection 
is as valid against the phenomena of the -soul as against 
its substance. This is, indeed, the result to which he 
should have gone on; but he did not dare to do it, for 
there is no philosopher at once wiser and more inconsistent 
than Locke. What then does he do ? 

In the peril into which his philosophy has driven him, 
he abandons his philosophy, and all philosophy ; and ap¬ 
peals to Christianity, to revelation, to faith. By faith, 
however, and by revelation, he does not understand a 
philosophical faith and revelation. This interpretation did 
not exist in the age of Locke. He understands faith and 
revelation in the proper orthodox theological sense. His 
conclusion is this : (section before cited,) “ Therefore, con¬ 
cerning the existence of finite spirits, as well as several other 
things, we must content ourselves with the evidence of 
faith. ’ ’ Thus Locke here himself acknowledges and accepts 
the inevitable consequences of his theory, to which I wished 
to conduct him. Speaking as a philosopher, and not as a 
theologian, in the name of the human mind, and not in the 
name of a creed, I said that if we had no other reason to 
believe in the existence of spirit than the hypothesis of the 
representative idea, we had no good reason to believe at all. 
Locke admits it ; he proclaims it himself : and he throws 
himself into the arms of faith. I shall not allow him to 
rest there. 

The world of faith is as much shut up against him, as 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


189 


the world of mind and of matter. He could never have 
penetrated it, but by the grossest paralogism. Locke has 
no more right, nay, he has even less right, to believe in 
faith, in revelation, in Christianity, than in finite spirits 
such as we are, and in matter which is before us. 

Revelation supposes two things : 1, doctrines emanating 
from God ; 2, a book in which these doctrines are depo¬ 
sited and preserved. This book, though its contents may 
be divine and sacred, is itself necessarily material, it is a 
body ; and here I refer Locke to the objections already 
brought forward against the legitimate knowledge of bodies 
if we have no other ground for believing in them than the 
idea-image which represents them. Thus there is no legi¬ 
timate knowledge of the book, in which are contained the 
sacred doctrines revealed by God. What, then, becomes 
of the doctrines it contained ? Besides, these doctrines 
come from God. 

And what is God ? A spirit, an infinite spirit, as we 
judge. Now Locke has not yet been able, by his theory, to 
admit the legitimate existence of finite spirits ; and incre¬ 
dible to tell, in order to make me admit the existence of 
finite spirits, he proposes that I should begin by admitting 
the existence of an infinite spirit. But is this not to explain 
obscurum per obscurius , [to solve the lesser difficulty by 
presenting a greater] ? See the human mind deprived of 
the knowledge of finite spirits, because it can have no idea 
conformed to them; and yet, from its greater facility, 
having an idea of the infinite spirit, perfectly representing 
its object! But if a finite spirit cannot be represented, much 
less can the infinite spirit be represented ; evidently it can¬ 
not be, under the condition of Locke, that is, under the 
condition of forming an image, and a material image, of it. 
There is then, no infinite spirit, no God, [that is, we have 
no knowledge of him, no right to believe;] therefore, no 
revelation is possible. Everywhere, at every step, in the 
theory of Locke, we are plunged from depth to depth in 
the abyss of paralogism. 

If it is true that we have no legitimate knowledge, no 
true idea, but under the condition that this idea represents 
its object, and is conformed to it, is an image, and (as I 


190 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


have proved to be in strictness the necessary result of the 
hypothesis,) a material image of it,—then it follows, that 
we have no legitimate idea of the external world, nor of 
the world of spirits, souls, ourselves, and still less of God, 
to whom Locke appeals. Consequently it follows, in the 
last analysis, that we have no true idea of beings, and that 
we have no other legitimate knowledge than that of our 
own ideas ; none of their object, whatever it be, even of 
our own personal being itself. This consequence over¬ 
whelms this theory of ideas, and it is a consequence which 
invincibly follows from this theory.* 

* [Theory of Perception. —On the subject of this chapter the 
reader is referred to a very able article on the “ Philosophy of Per¬ 
ception,” in the Edinburgh Review, No. 103,-for Oct. 1830, in which 
the doctrines of Reid and Brown are examined. We regard this 
article as one of the best specimens of philosophical criticism that 
has recently appeared in the English language. It shows great 
power of thinking—great comprehension and great acuteness, united 
with an extent, a depth and accuracy of erudition, seldom met 
together. The writer shows that our knowledge of the external 
world—the qualities of matter—is direct and immediate. “ Conscious¬ 
ness declares our knowledge of material qualities to be intuitive. Nor is 
the fact, as given , denied even by those who disallow its truth.” 
“ according, ” says he, “ as the truth of the fact of consciousness in 
perception is entirely accepted, accepted in part, or wholly rejected, 
six possible and actual systems of philosophy result : 

“ 1. If the veracity of consciousness be unconditionally admitted 
—if the intuitive knowledge of mind and matter, and the consequent 
reality of their antithesis be taken as truths, to be explained if 
possible, but in themselves are held as paramount to all doubt, the 
doctrine is established which we would call the scheme of Natural 
Realism or Natural Dualism. —2. If the veracity of consciousness be 
allowed to the equipoise of the object and subject in the act, but reject¬ 
ed as to the reality of their antithesis, the system of Absolute Identity 
emerges, which reduces both mind and matter to phenomenal modi¬ 
fications of the same common substance.—3 and 4. If the testimony 
of consciousness be refused to the co-originality and reciprocal 
independence of the subject and object, two schemes are determined 
according as the one or the other of the terms is placed as the origi¬ 
nal and genetic. Is the object educed from the subject, Idealism ; 
is the subject educed from the object, Materialism, is the result.— 
5. Again, is the consciousness itself recognized only as a phenome¬ 
non, and the substantial reality of both subject and object denied, the 
issue is Nihilism.'’ 

“ 6. These systems are all conclusions from an original interpreta¬ 
tion of consciousness in perception, carried intrepidly forth to its 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


191 


legitimate issue. But there is one scheme which, violating the 
integrity of this fact, and, with the idealist, regarding the object 
of consciousness in perception as only a modification of the perci¬ 
pient subject, endeavours, however, to stop short of the negation of 
an external world, the reality of which, and the knowledge of whose 
reality it seeks to establish and explain by various hypotheses. 
This scheme, which we would term Hypothetical Realism or Hypo¬ 
thetical Dualism, although the most inconsequent of all systems, has 
been embraced, under various forms, by the immense majority of 
philosophers.” All the possible forms of Hypothetical Realism, or 
the representative theory, are reducible, in the opinion of the 
writer, to three, and these have all been actually maintained : 

1. The representative object not a modification of mind. 

2. The representative object a modification of mind, dependent for 
its knowledge, but not for its existence, on the act of consciousness. 

3. The representative object a modification of mind, non-existent 
out of cotisciousness ;—the idea and its perception only different rela¬ 
tions of an act (state) really identical. 

Of the six possible systems above given, it is then shown that 
Reid held the first, that of natural realism ; while Dr. Brown held 
the last, that of hypothetical realism ; and of its three forms, 
adopted the third. The writer fully makes out his case, “ that 
Brown’s interpretation of the fundamental tenet of Reid’s philo¬ 
sophy, is not a simple misconception, but an absolute reversal of its 
real and even unambiguous import,—and is without a parallel in 
the whole history of philosophy.” 

The writer goes on to demonstrate Brown’s inadequate conception 
of the problem in question, his ignorance of the history of opinions 
on the subject, and his remarkable misconception of the very writers 
whom he criticises. In regard to the latter point, among other phi¬ 
losophers Locke is mentioned ; and it is principally for the sake of 
adducing the passage in regard to Locke’s theory of perception, that 
we have introduced this note. 

“ Supposing always that ideas were held to be something distinct 
from their cognition, Reid states it as that philosopher’s opinion, 
[Locke’s,] that images of external objects were conveyed to the 
brain ; but whether he thought with Descartes ” [lege omnino Dr. 
Clarke,] “ and Newton, that the images in the brain are perceived 
by the mind there present, or that they are imprinted on the mind 
itself, is not so evident.” This, Dr. Brown, nor is he original in the 
assertion, pronounces a flagrant misrepresentation. Not only does 
he maintain that Locke never conceived the idea to be substantially 
different from the mind, as a material image in the brain, but that he 
never supposed it to have an existence apart from the mental energy 
of which it is the object. Locke, he asserts, like Arnauld, considered 
S the idea perceived, and the percipient act, to constitute the same in¬ 
divisible modification of the conscious mind. We shall see. 

“in his language, Locke is, of all philosophers, the most figura¬ 
tive, ambiguous, vacillating, various, and even contradictory, as has 


192 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


been noticed by Reid, and Stewart, and Brown himself; indeed, we 
believe by every author who has had occasion to comment on this 
philosopher. The opinions of such a writer are not therefore to be 
assumed from isolated and casual expressions which themselves re¬ 
quire to be interpreted on the general analogy of his system; and 
yet, this is the only ground on which Dr. Brown attempts to estab¬ 
lish his conclusions. Thus, on the matter under discussion, though 
really distinguishing, Locke verbally confounds the objects of sense 
and of intellect,—the operation and its object,—'the object immediate 
and mediate,—the object and its relations,—the images of fancy and 
the notions of understanding. Consciousness is converted with Per¬ 
ception,—Perception with Idea.— Idea with the Object of Perception, 
and with Notion, Conception, Phantasm, Representation, - Sense, 
Meaning, etc. Now, his language, identifying ideas and perceptions, 
appears conformable to a disciple ofArnauld; and now, it proclaims 
him a follower of Digby ,—explaining ideas by mechanical impulse, 
and the propagation of material particles from the external reality to 
the brain. In one passage, the idea would seem an organic affection, 
—the mere occasion of a spiritual representation, in another, a repre¬ 
sentative image in the brain itself. In employing thus indifferently 
the language of every hypothesis, may we not suspect that he was 
anxious to be made responsible for none? One, however, he has 
formally rejected, and that is the very opinion attributed to him by 
Dr. Brown,—that the idea or object of consciousness in perception, 
is only a modification of the mind itself.” 

A passage is then quoted from Locke’s Examination of Malle- 
branche's Opinion, published subsequently to his Essay, expressly 
establishing this assertion. It is too long to give here. The re¬ 
viewer concludes : “ If it be thus evident that Locke held neither 
the third form of representation,—that lent to him by Brown,—nor 
even the second ; it follows that Reid did him anything but injustice, 
in supposing him to maintain that ideas are objects either in the brain 
or in the mind itself. Even the more material of these alternatives 
has been the one generally attributed to him by his critics, and the 
one adopted from him by his disciples. Nor is this to be deemed an 
opinion too monstrous to be entertained by so enlightened a philoso¬ 
pher. It was, as we shall see, the common opinion of the age,—the 
opinion, in particular, held by the most illustrious of his countrymen 
and contemporaries—by Newton, Clarke, Willis, Hook, etc. ”—Tr.] 


CRITICAL EXAMINATION 


OF 

LOCKE’S ESSAY 

ON 

THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 


CHAPTER SEVENTH. 


s 




CONTENTS OF CHAPTER VII. 


Resumption and continuation of the preceding chapter.—Of the 
idea, not now considered in relation to the object which it should 
represent, but in relation to the mind which perceives it, and in 
which it is found.—The idea image, idea taken materially, implies 
a material subject; from hence materialism.—Taken spiritually, it 
it can give neither bodies nor spirit.—That the representative 
idea, laid down as the sole primitive datum of the mind, in the 
inquiry after reality, condemns us to a paralogism; since no 
representative idea can be decided to represent correctly or incor¬ 
rectly, except by comparing it with its original, with the reality 
itself, to which, however, by the hypothesis, we cannot arrive but 
by the idea.—That knowledge is direct, and without an inter¬ 
mediate.—Of judgments, of propositions and ideas.—Return to the 
question of innate ideas. 


CHAPTER VII. 


I now resume and complete the last lecture. Accord¬ 
ing to Locke, knowledge consists entirely in the relation 
of the idea to its object; and this knowledge is true or 
false, according as the relation of the idea to the object is a 
relation of conformity or of non-conformity. An idea, to be 
true, to be the foundation of real knowledge, must be similar 
to its object, must represent it, must be an object of it. Now 
what is the condition of an image ? There is no image 
without figure, without something of extension, without 
something sensible and material. The idea-image then 
implies something material; and if the truth of knowledge 
resolves itself into the conformity of the idea to its object, 
it resolves itself into the conformity of an image, taken 
materially, to its object, of whatever sort the object be. 

Observe that the representative idea, a3 the basis of 
knowledge, is in Locke a universal theory, without limit, 
without exception. It should then explain all knowledge ; 
it should go as far as human knowledge can go; it should 
then embrace God, spirits, and bodies, for all this falls 
more or less under knowledge. If then we can know no¬ 
thing, neither God, nor spirits, nor bodies, except by the 
ideas which represent them, and which represent them by 
being material images of them, the question is : whether 
we have ideas of these objects, these beings, which are 
faithful images of them, taken materially. 

The problem thus reduced to its most simple expression, 
has been easily solved. I think it has been clearly demon¬ 
strated that the external world itself, which the idea-image 
would seem most easily to give us, entirely escapes us, if 
it can be got at only by the idea-image; for there is no 
s 2 


196 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


sensible idea which can be an image of the world, of external 
objects, of bodies. 

In regard to bodies, we have considered first their se¬ 
condary qualities so called, which you know are properties 
in their nature out of our reach, and appreciable only by 
their effects, that is to say, are pure causes, the causes of our 
sensations. Now it is evident there is, and can be no 
material image of a cause. In respect to the primary 
qualities of bodies, there is one among them, namely figure, 
which would seem proper to be represented by the idea 
image ; and in fact it is certain that the visible appearance, 
the figure of external bodies placed before the organ of 
vision, is painted upon the retina. But, 1, the person who 
first knew the visible figure of a body was entirely ignorant 
that this visible figure was painted upon his retina; it is 
not, then, to the knowledge of this picture upon the retina 
and of the conformity of this picture to its object, that the 
knowledge of the reality of the external figure is owing : 
then 2, this picture stops at the retina; in order to go to 
the brain, which, as Locke says, is the audience chamber 
of the mind, it is necessary that it should traverse the optic 
nerve which is in an obscure region; and even if the optic 
nerve were in a luminous position, the image, after having- 
traversed it, and arrived at the brain, would perish in the 
darkness of that organ, before arriving at the mind. Thus 
it is indeed the condition of the phenomena of vision that 
there should be an image of the object upon the retina, but 
is only a condition, and not the foundation and explanation. 
Besides, if the idea-image plays a certain part in the phe¬ 
nomena of vision, it does not apply at all to other phenomena, 
to those of touch, for example, from which we derive the 
knowledge of the primary quality of body, par excellence , 
namely, of solidity, resistance. We have demonstrated that 
there can be no idea-image of resistance, of solidity: for 
the idea of solidity resolves itself into the idea of a cause, 
a resisting cause, and it has been demonstrated that there 
can be no idea-image of cause. 

So much for the primary and secondary qualities of 
bodies. If the idea-image represents no quality of bodies, 
still less can it represent the subject of these qualities, that 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


197 


substratum which escapes the grasp of the senses, and which 
of course can fall under no image borrowed from the senses. 
Space also, which must not be confounded with bodies 
enclosed by it, cannot be given by an idea-image. It is 
the same in respect to time; it is the same in respect to 
every sort of knowledge involved in the general knowledge 
of the external world. Since, then, the idea-image can 
represent only forms, and plays no part except in the phe¬ 
nomena of vision, and even there is only the external 
condition of those phenomena, it follows that if the external 
world has no other way of arriving at the intelligence, than 
that of the representative idea, it does not and cannot 
arrive there at all. 

The difficulties of the hypothesis of a representative idea 
are greatly increased when we come to consider the spi¬ 
ritual world. Locke acknowledges these difficulties. He 
allows that, since in fact the idea-image cannot represent 
the qualities of spirits, because there is no image of that 
which has no figure, either we must renounce the knowledge 
of spirit, or to obtain it, we must have recourse to faith, 
to revelation. But revelation is for us a book which 
contains doctrines revealed by God. Here there are, then, 
two things, a book and God. As to the book, we refer it 
to the external world : no representative idea being able 
to give certain knowledge of a sensible object, consequently 
giving none of a book, this book, sacred or not, can never 
be certainly known, nor be the foundation of certain know¬ 
ledge of spiritual existence.—God remains; but to have 
recourse to God in order to legitimate the knowledge of 
spirit, is to have recourse to spirit, in order to legitimate 
the knowledge of spirit; it is to take for granted the thing 
in question. The only difference there is between the spirit 
of God, and our own, is that the spirit of God is infinite, 
while our spirit is finite, which, far from diminishing the 
difficulty, increases it. Thus the representative idea, turned 
every way, can give no real knowledge, neither of bodies, 
nor of spirits, and still less the knowledge of the infinite 
spirit to whom Locke gratuitously appeals. 

Absolute scepticism, then, is the inevitable consequence 
of the theory of the representative idea; and absolute 
s 3 


198 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

scepticism is nothing less then absolute nihilism. In fact 
you have legitimately by this theory, neither the secondary 
qualities of bodies, nor their primary qualities, nor the 
subject of these qualities, nor space in which the bodies are 
located, nor time in which their motions are accomplished. 
Still less legitimately have you the qualities of your mind, 
or your mind itself, or that of your fellow-beings—the 
finite mind; and still less God—the infinite mind. You 
have then nothing, absolutely nothing, but the idea itself, 
that idea which ought to represent everything, and which 
represents nothing, and suffers no real knowledge to come 
to you. 

You see then where we are: but our difficulties are far 
from being exhausted. We have hitherto considered the 
idea-image in its relation to external objects which it should 
represent, namely, to bodies, to our spirits, and to God. 
Let us now consider it in another view, in its relation to 
the mind which must perceive it, and in which it must be 
found. 

The idea represents neither body, nor spirit, nor God; 
it can then give no object. This we have demonstrated. 
But it necessarily is in a subject. How is it there ? What 
is the relation of the idea, not now to its object, but to its 
subject ? 

Recollect the condition to which we have condemned the 
representative idea. If it represents, it must have in itself 
something of figure, something meterial; it is then some¬ 
thing material. Look, then, at the representative idea 
which is something material in the subject where it is found. 
But it is clear that the subject of the idea, the subject which 
perceives and contains and possesses the idea, can be of no 
other nature than the idea itself. The representative idea 
is something figured, like the shadows which paint them¬ 
selves in a magic lantern; it can then exist only in some¬ 
thing of an analogous kind, in a subject of the same nature, 
figured as the idea is, having parts, being extended and 
material, as that is. Hence, the destruction of the simplicity 
and spirituality of the subject of the idea, that is to say, 
of the soul j or in a word, materialism is the consequence 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


199 


of the theory of the representative idea, considered in 
relation to its subject. 

This result was already in the principle; this conse¬ 
quence does nothing but expose the vice of the origin of 
the representative idea. In fact, the origin of this theory, 
as you know, is in the hypothesis that the mind does not 
know bodies, does not communicate with bodies, except in 
the same way that bodies communicate with one another. 
Now bodies communicate, either by immediate impulse 
one upon the other, or indirectly by the intermediation of 
one or more bodies receiving and communicating the im¬ 
pulse, so that is always impulse which forms the commu¬ 
nication between bodies. If mind, then, may know bodies, 
it must be by impulse. But we see no immediate and 
direct impulse of bodies upon the mind, nor of the mind 
upon bodies; the impulse must then be from a distance, 
that is by something intermediate. This intermediate is 
the idea. The idea emanates from the body, and through 
the senses arrives at the mind. The idea emanates from 
bodies—that is its first characteristic; the second is, that 
it represents them. Representation is here founded upon 
the emission. Now emission, which is the first root of the 
representative idea, necessarily makes its material. This 
shows already a strong inclination towards materialism; 
look now at something which shows this tendency much 
more strikingly. Not only does the mind gain no know¬ 
ledge of bodies, except as bodies communicate with one 
another; but the mind knows minds only as it knows bodies, 
by the intermediation of the representative idea. A theory 
material in its origin, is first applied to the knowledge of 
bodies, then transferred to the knowledge of spirit. It is 
then altogether natural that the last expression of this theory 
should be materialism. And I do not impose upon this the¬ 
ory merely its logically necessary consequences, but conse¬ 
quences which have been deduced from it. History is charg¬ 
ed with the office of doveloping these consequences in the 
school of Locke. Upon this theory of the representative 
idea, the school of Locke in part grounds its positive denial of 
the spirituality of the soul. According to that school many 
ideas in the mind, taken materially, suppose something ex- 


200 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


tended in the mind; and even a single idea being an 
image, is already something figured, which supposes a 
corresponding subject. The vulgar expression that ideas 
make an impression on the mind, is not in this school, a 
metaphor; it is the aetual reality. I refer you to Hartley, 
to Darwin, to Priestley, and to their English and other 
successors. We shall take them up in due time and 
order. 

This consequence of the theory of the representative 
idea in relation to its subject is irresistible. But does any 
one wish to save the spirituality of the soul, and still pre¬ 
serve the theory of the representative idea P Then on the 
one side, there are material ideas, material images, and on 
the other, a simple soul, and consequently between the 
modification and its subject an abyss. How to bridge over 
this abyss P What relation is there between the material 
image and the subject of this image, if this subject is held 
to be simple, unextended, spiritual ? It is clearly neces¬ 
sary to find some intermediates between the idea-images 
and their subject, the soul. The images were before re¬ 
garded as the media between bodies and the soul; but now 
media are necessary between those first media or the idea- 
images and the soul. New media must be found, that is 
to say, new ideas. But these new ideas, in order to serve 
as a media between the first ideas and the soul, must 
represent those ideas; and in order to represent images 
they must themselves be images, and if images, then mate¬ 
rial. The difficulty constantly returns ; either the idea- 
images do not enter the soul, or they make the soul material. 
The attempt has been made to subtilize these ideas, to refine 
the intermediate; but either these refinements still leave 
it material, and of course the materiality of the image 
invincibly involves the materiality of its subject; or, the 
idea-image, as material, must be given up, and retaining 
the theory of the representative idea, the idea must be con¬ 
sidered as spiritual. 

This has been done. The idea, as a material image, has 
been abandoned for a spiritual idea. But what is the re¬ 
sult of this new modification of the representative theory 
under examination ? I grant that if the idea is spiritual 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


201 


it permits a spiritual subject; it gives room for believing 
in the simplicity and spirituality of the soul. But then 
the hypothesis of emission is evidently destroyed, and along 
with it, the theory of representation. Indeed, I ask what 
is this spiritual idea as the image of a material object P 
The mind has none of these fundamental properties which 
constitute what we call matter; it has then neither solidity, 
nor extension, nor figure. But how can that which is 
neither solid, nor extended, nor figured, represent that 
which is solid, extended, figured ? What can the spiritual 
idea of a solid be P What the spiritual idea of extension, 
of form ? It is evident that the spiritual idea cannot 
represent body. And can it any better represent spirit; 
Still less. For what is that which represents, what is that 
which is endowed with a representative power ? Once 
again, there is no representation where there is no resem¬ 
blance, and there is no resemblance except between figures 
or forms. That which is figured can resemble that which 
is figured ; but where there is no figure, there is no possi¬ 
ble matter for resemblance, nor consequently for represen¬ 
tation. Spirit cannot represent spirit. A spiritual idea 
cannot in any way represent any spiritual quality nor any 
spiritual subject; and the spiritual idea-image which des¬ 
troys the possible knowledge of body, destroys no less, nay 
even more decidedly destroys the possible knowledge of 
spirit, of finite spirit such as we are, and of the infinite 
spirit, God. From the bosom of Sensualism there proceeds 
a kind of Idealism which, along with the matter, does away 
also with mind and with God himself. And do not think 
I beseech you, that it is merely reasoning which derives 
these new consequences from the theory of ideas. As 
Hartley and Priestley prove that I have not gratuitously 
derived materialism from the theory of ideas, taken as 
material images ; so here also facts and the history of ano¬ 
ther branch of the School of Locke prove that it is not I 
who condemn the theoiy of the spiritual idea-image to the 
necessity of destroying both body and spirit. That it 
destroys body, seek in Berkeley, who armed himself with 
this theory, in order to deny all material existence. That 
it destroys spirit, seek in Hume, who taking from the 


202 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


hands of Berkeley the arms he had used for the destruction 
of the material world, and turning them against the spirit¬ 
ual world, has destroyed both the finite spirit which we 
are, and the infinite spirit, both the human soul and God. 

We must go the extent of these principles. The repre¬ 
sentative idea considered relatively to its subject and as a 
material image, conducts directly to materialism; taken 
spiritually , it leads to the destruction of body and of spirit, 
to absolute scepticism, and absolute nihilism.—Now it is 
an unquestionable fact that we have the knowledge of 
bodies, that we have the knowledge of our mind. We 
have this knowledge ; and yet we could not have obtained 
it by the theory of the representative idea. This theory 
therefore does not exhibit the true process of the human 
mind. According to Locke, the representative idea is the 
only way of real knowledge; then this way failing us, we 
are in the absolute impossibility of ever arriving at know¬ 
ledge. We do arrive at it, however ; consequently we 
arrive at it in some other way than by the representative 
idea, aud consequently, again, the theory of the represen¬ 
tative idea is a chimera. 

I will now go further. I will change the ground 
altogether; I will admit that the idea has a representative 
office ; I will admit the reality of this representation; I 
will believe with Locke and all his partizans, that we know 
only through representative ideas, and that in fact ideas 
have the wonderful property of representing their objects. 
Let all this be so. But on what condition, do ideas 
represent things ? On the condition, you know, of being 
conformed to them. I take for granted that if we did 
not know that the idea was conformed to its object, 
we should not know that it represented it; we should have 
no true knowledge of this object. And again, upon what 
condition can we know that an idea is conformed to its 
object, is a faithful copy of the original which it represents ? 
Nothing more simple. The condition is that we should 
have known the original. It is necessary that we should 
have before our eyes both the original and the copy, in 
order to compare the copy with the original and to 
pronounce that the copy is in fact, a faithful copy of the 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


203 


original. But suppose we had not the original, what could 
we say of the copy P Could you say, in the absence of 
the original, that the copy which alone is before your eyes, 
is a faithful copy of the original which you do not see, 
which you have never seen ? Certainly not. You could 
neither be sure that the copy is a faithful, nor an unfaithful 
copy; you could not even affirm that it is a copy. If we 
know things only through ideas, and if we know them only 
on the condition that the ideas faithfully represent them, 
we can know that the ideas do faithfully represent them, 
only by seeing on the one hand the things themselves, and 
on the other the ideas of them. Then only could we pro¬ 
nounce that the ideas are conformed to their objects. Thus 
to know if you have a true idea of God, of the soul, of 
bodies, you must have oil the one hand, God, the soul, and 
bodies, and on the other, the idea of God, the soul, and 
bodies, in order that by comparing the idea with its object, 
you may be able to decide whether it is or is not conformed 
to its object. Let us choose an example. 

I wish to know, if the idea which I have of body is true. 
It is necessary that I should have both the idea which I 
form of body, and the body itself; then that I should 
compare them, confront them, and decide. 

I take then from Locke the idea of body, just as Locke 
has himself furnished me with it. To know if it is true, I 
must compare it, I must confront it with body itself. This 
supposes that I know body; for if I do not know it, with 
what shall I compare the idea of body in order to know if 
it is true or false ? We must then suppose that I know 
body. But how could I have come to know it ? By the 
theory of Locke, you know and you can know nothing but 
by ideas which represent things to you. Now I know 
this body ; then by the theory of Locke, I know it only 
by the ideas which represent it to me; therefore I do not 
know this body itself, the body which it is necessary for 
me to know in order to compare it with the idea that I 
have of it; 1 know only its idea, and it is its idea alone 
that I can compare with its idea, that is to say I have 
compared an idea with an idea, a copy with a copy. Here 
is still no original. The comparison, then, the verification 


204 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


is impossible. That the verification may conduct me to a 
result, it is necessary that this second idea which I have of 
body, should be a true idea, should be conformed to its 
object. But I cannot know that this second idea is true, 
except on the condition that I compare it; and with what ? 
With the body, with the original. It is therefore neces¬ 
sary that I should know the body in some other way, in 
order to decide whether this second idea is conformed to 
it. Let us see then. I know the body; but how do I 
know it. By the theory of Locke, again, I know it only 
by the idea I have of it; there is here, then, nothing but 
an idea with which I can compare the second idea I had of 
body. I cannot pass beyond the idea; go on in this way, 
as long as you please, you incessantly go round in a circle of 
ideas from which you cannot break forth, and which never 
allow you to get at the real object, nor lay the foundation 
of a legitimate comparison ; since such a comparison sup¬ 
poses that you have on the one hand the copy, and on the 
other the original; while in fact you have nothing but an 
idea, and then a second idea, and thus on, and of course can 
compare nothing but the ideas, the copies. And again, even 
to decide that they are copies, it is necessary that you should 
have had the original itself, which yet escapes, and forever 
will escape your grasp, in every theory of knowledge which 
subjects the mind to the necessity of knowing only through 
the intermediation of representative ideas. 

Thus in the last analysis, the object, the original, forever 
escapes the immediate grasp of the human mind, can never 
be brought under its regard, nor consequently be the basis 
of a comparison with the copy, the idea. You can never 
know then that the idea which you have of body is con¬ 
formed or not conformed, faightful or unfaightful, true or 
false. You will have it without knowing even whether it 
has any object or not* 

It is impossible to remain in this predicament; and to 
assist Locke, I will now make a supposition. I will sup¬ 
pose, that in fact we have before our eyes not only the 
idea of the original, but the original itself. I will suppose, 
that we know the original directly; the comparison is then 
possible. Let us go on to make it. Previously, however, 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


205 


I will remark, that the supposition I have made,—of an 
original directly known, which is the necessary basis of all 
comparison, but which comparison is the necessary basis of 
the theory of Locke,—this supposition just destroys entirely 
the theory. For if we suppose that we have an original 
which we know directly, we suppose that we can know in 
some other way than by representative ideas. 

But I will proceed with the supposition; and I ask 
whether this original, which we know directly , and without 
the medium of representative ideas, is a chimera ? No; 
if it were, to compare an idea with a chimerical object would 
lead you to nothing. You suppose, then, that it is indeed 
the original, the true original, the object, the body; and 
you suppose that the knowledge you have of it is certain 
knowledge, knowledge which leaves nothing to be desired. 
See then what is your position. You have, on the one 
hand, the certain knowledge of body, and on the other 
you have an idea of this body, and you wish to know 
whether it is faithful or not. On these terms, the com¬ 
parison is very easy; it is made of itself; having the copy 
and the original, you can easily tell if the one represents 
the other. But this comparison, necessary by the theory, 
and now (by supposition) possible and easy, is also per¬ 
fectly useless. What indeed, was the object of this com¬ 
parison ? It was to assist the theory of Locke; it was to 
deduce from the comparison the certain knowledge of body. 
That is what you were seeking after. In order to get at it, 
you place the original beside the copy. But if you take 
for granted that you have the original, that is to say, cer¬ 
tain knowledge of the body, the whole thing is done. There 
is nothing more to do. Let alone your comparison, your 
verification. Do not give yourself the trouble to investi¬ 
gate whether the idea is conformed or not to the original. 
You possess the original; that is enough; you possess the 
very knowledge you were seeking to gain. Thus without 
having the certain knowledge of the original, you could 
never know whether the idea you have is faithful or not, 
and all comparison would be impossible; and as soon as 
you have the original, it is undoubtedly very easy to com¬ 
pare the idea with the reality; but since you have the 
T 


206 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


reality, it is altogether useless to compare the idea with it; 
you have what you were in search of, and the very con¬ 
dition of the theory, the comparison namely which it 
requires, is precisely the taking for granted the knowledge 
which you are seeking from the theory : that is a paral¬ 
ogism, [a begging of the question.] 

Such is the criticism, a little subtle, perhaps, but exact, 
which pursuing in all its turnings the theory of the repre¬ 
sentative idea, destroys and confounds it on every hand. 
Either, the representative does not represent, and cannot 
represent, and consequently, if we have no other means of 
knowing things, we are condemned never to know them; 
we are condemned to scepticism, more or less extensive, 
according as we are more or less consistent, and if we will 
be perfectly consistent, to absolute scepticism both in 
respect to matter and mind, that is to say, to absolute ni¬ 
hilism. Or else the idea does represent its object; and in 
this case we can know that it faithfully represents its object 
only so far as we have the original, that is, so far only as 
we know matter and mind, things themselves in some other 
way; and then the intervention of the representative idea is 
possible, but it is useless. Its truth, the conformity of 
the idea to its object, can be demonstrated only by a sup¬ 
position, which overthrows the very theory it was designed 
to sustain. 

Let us now deduce from the criticism the consequences 
it gives. 

"First consequence: we know matter and mind, the 
world, the soul and God, otherwise than by representative 
ideas. Second and more general consequence: in order 
to know beings we have no need of an intermediate. We 
know things directly and without the medium of ideas, or 
of any other medium. The mind is a faculty of knowing, 
which is indeed subject to certain conditions, but which, 
when these conditions are once supplied, enters into ex¬ 
ercise, develops itself, and knows, for the sole reason that 
it is endowed with the ability of knowing. 

The history of the true development of the understanding 
confirms this important result, and serves to put the theory 
of ideas in its true light. 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 207 

Primitively, nothing is abstract, nothing is general; 
everything is particular, everything is concrete. The under¬ 
standing, as I have proved, does not begin with these 
formulas : there is no modification without its subject : 
there is no body without space, etc. But a modification 
being given, it conceives a particular subject of this mod¬ 
ification ; a body being given, it conceives that this body 
is in a space ; a particular succession being given, it con¬ 
ceives that this particular succession is in a determinate 
time, etc. It is so with all our primitive conceptions ; they 
are all particular, determined, concrete. Moreover, as I 
have also shown, they are blended together, all our faculties 
entering into exercise simultaneously, or nearly so. There 
is no consciousness of the slightest sensation without an 
act of attention, that is to say, without some development 
of the will; there is no volition without the sentiment of 
an internal causative power; no sensation perceived with¬ 
out reference to an external cause and to the world, which 
we then conceive as in a space and in a time, etc. In 
short, not to repeat here what I have said so many times, 
all our primitive conceptions are not only concrete, par¬ 
ticular and determinate, but simultaireous ; and as the 
understanding does not commence by abstraction, but by 
particularity, so it does not commence by analysis, but by 
synthesis. Our primitive conceptions, moreover, present 
two distinct characteristics; some are contingent, others 
are necessary. Under the eye of consciousness there may 
be a sensation of pleasure or of pain, which I perceive as 
actually existing ; but this sensation may vary, change, 
disappear. From hence very soon may arise the conviction 
that this sensible phenomenon which I notice, is indeed 
real, but that it may exist or may not exist, and therefore 
I may feel it or not feel it. This is a characteristic which 
philosophers have designated as contingent. But when I 
conceive that a body is in space ; if I endeavour to conceive 
the contrary—that a body may be without space, I cannot 
succeed. This conception of space is a conception which 
philosophers have designated by the term necessary. But 
from whence do all our conceptions, contingent or neces¬ 
sary, come ? From the faculty of conceiving, which is in 
t 2 


208 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


us, by whatever name you call this faculty of which we are 
all conscious—mind, reason, thought, understanding, or 
intelligence. The operations of this faculty, our concep¬ 
tions, are essentially affirmative, if not orally, yet mentally. 
To deny, even, is to affirm; for it is to affirm the contrary 
of what had been first affirmed. To doubt also, is to affirm; 
for it is to affirm uncertainty. Besides, we evidently do 
not commence by doubt or negation, but by affirmation. 
Now, to affirm in any way, is to judge. If, then, every 
intellectual operation resolves itself into an operation of 
judgment, all our conceptions, whether contingent or neces¬ 
sary, resolve themselves into judgments contingent or ne¬ 
cessary ; and all our primitive operations being concrete 
and synthetic, it follows that all the primitive judgments, 
supposed by these operations, are also exercised under this 
form. 

Such is the primitive scene of the intelligence. Gradually 
it unfolds itself. In the progress of this development lan¬ 
guage supervenes which reflects the understanding, and 
brings it so to say,, out of itself. If you open the grammars, 
you will find that they all begin with the elements and go 
to propositions; that is, they begin by analysis and go 
to synthesis. But in reality the process is not so. When 
the mind translates itself into language, the primary expres¬ 
sions of its judgments are, like the judgments themselves, 
concrete and synthetic. Faithful images of the develop¬ 
ment of the mind, languages begin not by words, but by 
phrases, by propositions very complex. A primitive 
proposition is a whole, corresponding to the natural 
synthesis by which the mind begins. These primitive pro¬ 
positions are by no means abstract propositions such as 
these : there is no quality without a subject; there is no 
body without space containing it; and the like; but they 
are all particular, such as: I exist ; this body exists; such 
a body is in that space ; God exists, etc. These proposi¬ 
tions are such as refer to a particular and determinate 
object, which is either self, or body, or God. But after 
having expressed its primitive, concrete and synthetic 
judgments, by concrete and synthetic propositions, the mind 
operates upon these judgments by abstraction ; it neglects 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


209 


that which is concrete in them to consider only the form 
of them, for example, the character of necessity with which 
many of them are invested, and which when disengaged 
and developed, give instead of the concrete propositions : I 
exist; these bodies are in such a space, etc.; the abstract 
propositions : there can be no body without space ; there 
can be no modification without a subject; there can be no 
succession without time, etc. The general was at first 
enveloped in the particular ; then from the complexity of 
the primitive fact, you disengage the general from the par¬ 
ticular, and you express it by itself. But I have elsewhere 
sufficiently explained the formation of general proposi¬ 
tions.* 

Language is the sign of the mind, of its operations and 
of their development. It expresses at first primitive, con¬ 
crete and synthetic judgments, by primitive propositions 
themselves concrete and synthetic. The judgments are 
gradually generalized by abstraction, and in their turn the 
propositions become general and abstract; and this process 
continues to go on. Abstract propositions, the signs of 
abstract judgments, are themselves complex, and contain 
several elements. From the propositions we abstract these 
elements, and consider them separately. These elements 
are called ideas. It is a great error to suppose that we 
have first these elements, without having the whole of which 
they are a part. We do not begin by propositions, but by 
judgments ; the judgments do not come from the proposi¬ 
tions, but the propositions come from the judgments, 
which themselves come from the faculty of judging, which 
is grounded in the original capacity of the mind. J fortiori, 
then, we do not begin by ideas ; for ideas are given us in 
the propositions. Take, for example, the idea of space. 
It is not given us by itself, but in this complete proposition : 
there is no body without space, which proposition is only 
the form of a judgment. Take away the proposition, which 
would not be made without the judgment, and you have 
not the ideas; but as soon as language permits you to 
translate your judgments into propositions, then you can 
consider separately the different elements of these propo- 
* Chap. IV. 


210 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


sitions, that is to say, ideas separately from each other. 
To speak strictly, there are in nature no propositions, nei¬ 
ther concrete nor abstract, particular nor general, and still 
less are there ideas in nature. If by ideas be understood 
something real, which exists independently of language, 
and which is an intermediate between beings and the mind, 
I say that there are absolutely no ideas. There is nothing 
real except things, and the mind with its operations, that 
is, its judgments. Then come languages, which in some 
sort create a new world, at once spiritual and material, those 
symbolic beings which are called signs, or words, by the 
help of which they give a kind of external and independent 
existence to the results of mental operations. Thus, in 
expressing judgments or propositions, they have the appear¬ 
ance of giving reality to those propositions. The same is 
the case in respect to ideas. Ideas are no more real than 
propositions ; they have the same reality, the reality of 
abstractions to which language attaches a nominal and 
conventional existence. Every language is at once an 
analyst and a poet; it makes abstractions and it realizes 
them. This is the condition of every language. We must 
be resigned to it, and speak in figures, provided we know 
what we are doing. Thus all the world talk of having an 
idea of a thing, of having a clear or obscure idea, etc.; but 
by this nobody intends to say, that we have no knowledge 
of things, except by means of certain intermediate things 
called ideas ; it is merely intended to mark the operation 
of the mind in reference to such a thing, the operation by 
which the mind knows the thing, knows it more or less, 
etc. We talk also of representing a thing, and frequently 
a thing which falls not under the senses ; this is merely 
saying that we know it, comprehend it; saying it, that is, 
by using a metaphor borrowed from the phenomena of the 
senses, and from the sense whose use is the most frequent, 
that of sight. Good taste is ordinarily the sole judge of 
the employment of these figures. This metaphorical style 
may be carried, and is frequently carried, very far without 
obscurity or error. I absolve, then, the ordinary language 
of the bulk of mankind, and I believe that we may also ab¬ 
solve that of most philosophers, who commonly have spoken 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


211 


as the people, without being more absurd than the people. 
It is impossible, in fact, to forbid the philosopher all me¬ 
taphors ; the only law which it is necessary to impose upon 
him, is not to insist upon metaphors, and not to convert 
them into theories. Perhaps the Scotch school, which 
has taken up in the eighteenth century the old controversy 
against the representative idea, in the name of the common 
sense of the human race, has not been sufficiently aware 
that philosophers also make a part of the human race; 
perhaps it has imputed too much to the schools, and been 
too willing to see everywhere the theory which it had under¬ 
taken to combat. But it has certainly rendered an eminent 
service to philosophy, in demonstrating tbat the idea-image 
at the bottom is nothing but a metaphor, and in doing 
justice to this metaphor, if seriously taken as endowed with 
a representative power. This latter is the vice into which 
Locke has fallen, and I have thought proper to signalize it 
with some care, as one of the most perilous rocks of the 
Sensual school. 

Prom the point at which we now have arrived, we can 
easily judge of the doctrine of innate ideas , the refutation of 
which occupies the whole of Locke’s first book.* The time 
has now come to explain ourselves concerning this doctrine, 
and concerning the refutation of Locke.—Locke divides the 
general doctrine of innate ideas into two points, general pro¬ 
positions or maxims, and ideas. Now, we likewise reject 
the doctrine of innate propositions and ideas, and for a very 
simple reason: because there are in nature neither proposi¬ 
tions nor ideas. What is there in nature ? Besides bodies 
there is nothing except minds, and among these, that which is 
ourselves, which conceives and knows directly things, minds 
and bodies. And in the order of minds what is there innate ? 
Nothing but the mind itself, the understanding, the faculty 
of knowing. The understanding, as Leibnitz has profoundly 
said, is innate to itself; the development of the under¬ 
standing is equally innate, in this sense, that it cannot but 
take place, when the understanding is once given, with the 
power which is proper to it, [and the conditions of its 
development supplied.] And, as you have seen, the deve- 
* See Chap. II. 


212 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


lopment of the understanding is the judgments which it 
passes and the knowledge implied in those judgments. 
Undoubtedly, these judgments have conditions, which 
belong to the domain of experience. Take away experience 
and there is nothing in the senses, nothing in the conscious¬ 
ness, and consequently nothing in the understanding. But 
is this condition the absolute law of the understanding ? 
Might it not still judge and develop itself, without the aid 
of experience, without an organic impression, without a 
sensation ? I neither affirm nor deny it; hypotheses non 
jingo, as Newton said, I am not framing hypotheses. I 
state what is, without knowing what might be, what will 
be, or what may have been. I say, that in the limits of 
the present state, it is an undeniable fact, that unless certain 
experimental conditions are supplied, the mind does not 
enter into operation, does not jiidge; but I say at the same 
time, that as soon as these conditions are fulfilled, the mind, 
in virtue of its own capacity and force, develops itself, 
thinks, conceives, judges, and knows a multitude of things, 
which fall neither under consciousness, nor under the senses, 
as time, space, external causes, existences, and its own 
existence. There are no innate ideas, any more than innate 
propositions; but there is a capacity, faculty or power 
innate in the understanding, that acts and projects itself 
in primitive judgments, which, when language comes in, 
express themselves in propositions, and these propositions 
decomposed by abstraction and analysis, engender distinct 
ideas. As the mind is equal to itself in all men, the 
primitive judgments which it passes are the same in all 
men ; and consequently, the propositions in which language 
expresses these judgments, and the fundamental ideas of 
which they are composed, are at once and universally admit¬ 
ted. One condition is however necessary, namely that 
they should be apprehended. When Locke pretends that 
these propositions: “ whatsoever is, is,” and “ it is impossi¬ 
ble for the same thing to be, and not to be,” are propositions 
which are not universally nor primitively admitted, he is 
both right and wrong. Certainly, the first comer, the 
peasant to whom you should say : whatever is, is, and it 
is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be, would 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


213 


not admit these propositions; for he would not compre¬ 
hend them, because you speak a language which is not his 
own, the language of abstraction and of analysis. But 
that which the peasant does not admit and does not compre¬ 
hend under its abstract form, he admits immediately and 
necessarily under the concrete and synthetic form. Ask 
this same man who does not comprehend your metaphysical 
language, whether under the different actions or sensations 
of which he is conscious, there is not something real and 
subsistent, which is himself; and whether he is not himself 
the same to-day that he was yesterday; in a word, instead 
of abstract formulas, propose to him particular, determinate 
and concrete questions; and then human nature will give 
you an answer, because human nature, the human under- 
tanding, is in the peasant as really as in Leibnitz.— 
What I have just said concerning abstract and general pro¬ 
positions I say concerning the simple ideas which analysis 
finds in these propositions. For example, ask a savage if 
he has the idea of God; you ask him what he cannot reply 
to, for he does not understand it. But if do you know how 
to interrogate this poor savage, you will see proceed from 
his intelligence a synthetic and confused idea, which, if 
you know how to read it, contains already everything which 
the most refined analysis could ever give you; you will see 
that under the confusion of their natural judgments, which 
they neither know how to separate nor to express, the savage, 
the child, the idiot even, if he is not entirely one, admit 
originally and universally all the ideas which subsequent 
analysis develops without producing, or of which it produces 
only the scientific form. 

There are, then, indeed, no innate ideas, nor innate 
propositions, because there are no ideas nor propositions 
really existing. Again, there are no general ideas and 
propositions universally and primitively admitted under the 
form of general ideas and propositions. But it is certain, 
that the understanding of all men teems, so to say, with 
natural judgments, which may be called innate in this sense, 
that they are the primitive, universal and necessary deve¬ 
lopment of the human mind, which finally is innate to 
itself, and equal to itself, in all men.* 

• [Innate Ideas .—The whole system of Locke is built upon a 


214 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


confusion of ideas. The comprehending sophism from which it de¬ 
rives all its plausibility, is the mistaking the conditions of a thing 
for its causes and essence. The exhaustion of the air from a receiver, 
is the condition of the falling in equal time, of a guinea and a 
feather ; but gravitation is the cause of the phenomenon. To any 
one to whom this distinction is clear, and who will apply it to the 
discussion concerning innate ideas in Locke’s first book, it cannot 
but appear surprising that he should ever have gravely instituted 
such a polemique, or that it should ever have gained such celebrity. 
This has, we trust, been rendered sufficiently evident from the 
discussions of this work, and particularly in the first chapters, where 
the distinction between the logical and chronological order of know¬ 
ledge, is unfolded and applied. “ The first book of Locke’s Essay,” 
says Coleridge. (“ if the supposed error which it labours to subvert, 
be not a mere thing of straw, an absurdity which no man ever did 
or ever could believe) is formed on a a6<pi(rixa krepo^r] T^<r«os, 
and involves the old mistake of cum hoc, ergo propter hoc. We learn 
all things indeed be occasion of Experience ; but the very facts so 
learnt, force us inward upon antecedents which must be pre-supposed, 
in order to render experience itself possible.” “ The position of the 
Aristotelians : Nihil in intellectu quod non prius in sensu, on which 
Locke’s Essay is grounded, is irrefragable ; Locke erred only in 
taking half the truth for a whole truth.” 

Experience, that is, with Locke, Sensation and Reflection, is the 
occasion and condition of all knowledge ; but not the ground and 
source of all knowledge. The notion of space, for instance, would 
never have been formed, if the notion of body had not been first 
derived from sensation. By occasion of the sensation which gives 
us body, the mind is awakened to the idea of space, which latter 
idea, the mind forms of itself, by its own proper activity, and by its 
own laws. If this dependence of the mind upon experience as the 
condition of all knowledge, were all that Locke meant to maintain 
by his attempt at refuting innate ideas, he would maintain what 
nobody denies. 

While, therefore, all our knowledge begins with Experience ; 
while no knowledge precedes Experience, it does not therefore 
follow, as Kant well observes, that all our knowledge springs from 
experience. It may still be the fact, that even our empirical know¬ 
ledge is compounded partly of that which we receive through 
impressions, and partly of that which the understanding produces of 
itself, barely through occasion of sensible impressions. This we hold 
to be the true explanation. The understanding, when called into 
exercise by and upon the data of experience, is in virtue of certain 
previous laws of its activity, itself the source of much of our know¬ 
ledge,—knowledge which we could never derive from experience. 
Now these laws and original conceptions of the understanding, 
(known in our modern English philosophy as first principles, neces¬ 
sary truths, etc.) are sometimes called constituent forms of the 
understanding, and knowledge a priori. 

“ They are called constituent says Coleridge,“ because they are 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


215 


not acquired by the understanding, but they are implied in its con¬ 
stitution. As rationally might a circle be said to acquire a centre 
and circumference, as the understanding to acquire these, its inhe- 
rent forms, or ways of conceiving. This is what Leibnitz meant, 
when to the old adage of the Peripatetics : nihil in intellectu , quod 
non priiis in sensu, he replied : prceter intellectum ipsum.” 

They are also, we have said, called knowledge a priori. —“ This 
phrase,” as Coleridge remarks, “ is in common most grossly mis¬ 
understood. By knowledge a priori, we do not mean that we can 
know anything previously to experience, which would be a contra¬ 
diction in terms ; but that, having once known by occasion of expe¬ 
rience, (i. e. something acting upon us from without,) we then know 
that it must have pre-existed, or the experience itself would have 
been impossible. By experience only, I know that I have eyes ; 
but then my reason convinces me that I must have had eyes, in 
order to the experience.”—T r.J 























CRITICAL EXAMINATION 

OF 

LOCKE’S ESSAY 

ON 

THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 


CHAPTER EIGHTH. 


U 




CONTENTS OF CHAPTER VIII. 


Examination of the fourth Book of the Essay on the Understanding, 
continued. Of Knowledge. Its modes. Omission of inductive know¬ 
ledge.—Its degrees. False distinction of Locke between knowing 
and judging.—That the theory of knowledge and of judgment in 
Locke resolves itself into that of a perception of agreement or dis¬ 
agreement between ideas. Detailed examination of this theory.— 
That it applies to judgments abstract and not primitive, but by no 
means to primitive judgments which imply existence.—Analysis ofj 
the judgment: I exist. Three objections: 1, the impossibility of 
arriving at real existence by the abstraction of existence ; 2, that to 
begin by abstraction is contrary to the true process of the human 
mind ; 3, that the theory of Locke involves a paralogism.—Analysis 
of the judgments : I think, this body exists , this body is coloured, God 
exists, etc .—Analysis of the judgments upon which Arithmetic and 
Geometry rest. 



CHAPTER VIII. 


* We have stopped some time at the entrance of the fourth 
Book of the Essay on the Understanding; let us now pass 
within. This book treats of knowledge in general; of its 
different modes; of its different degrees ; of its extent and 
limits ; with some applications. It is therefore, properly 
speaking, Logic with something of Ontology. The prin¬ 
ciple of this Logic rests upon the theory we have examined, 
that of the representative idea. We have seen that, with 
Locke, the condition of all legitimate knowledge is a con¬ 
formity of the idea to the object; and we have every way 
proved that this conformity is nothing but a chimera. We 
have then already overthrown the general theory of know¬ 
ledge, but we have overthrown it only in its principle. It 
is necessary now to examine it in itself independent of the 
principle of the representative idea, and to follow it in its 
appropriate development and consequences. 

Whether the idea is representative or not, it is a settled 
point in the system of Locke that the understanding does 
not commence by things but by ideas ; that ideas are the v 
. sole objects of the understanding, and consequently the sole 
foundations of knowledge. Now if all knowledge neces¬ 
sarily depends upon ideas, then where there is no idea there 
is no knowledge; and wherever there is knowledge, there 
has necessarily been an idea. But the converse is not true, 
there is not necessarily knowledge, wherever there is an 
idea. Eor instance, in order that you may be able to have 
a correct knowledge of God, it is necessary that you should 
first have some idea of God; but from your having some 
idea of God, it does not follow that you have a correct 
knowledge of him. Thus knowledge is limited by ideas ; 
u 2 


220 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


but it does not necessarily go along with and as far as 
ideas. 

B. IY. eh. III. § 1. “ We can have knowledge no far¬ 
ther than we have ideas” Ibid. § 6. “ Our knowledge is 

narrower than our ideas” “ If knowledge never surpasses 
the ideas and sometimes falls short of them, and if all 
knowledge depends upon ideas, it is clear that knowledge 
can never be anything but the relation of one idea to 
another; and that the process of the human mind in 
7 knowledge is nothing else than the perception of a relation 
of some sort between ideas. B. IV. eh. I. § 1. “Since 
the mind in all its thoughts and reasonings, hath no other 
immediate objects but its own ideas , which it alone does or 
can contemplate, it is evident that our knowledge is only 
conversant about them.” § 2. “ Knowledge then seems to 
me to be nothing but the perception of the connection and 
agreement or disagreement and repugnancy of any of our 
ideas. In this alone it consists. Where this perception, _ 
is, there is knowledge; and where it is not, there though 
we may fancy, guess, or believe, yet we always come short 
of knowledge.” 

Thence follow the different modes and degrees of know¬ 
ledge in the system of Locke. We know only when 
we perceive a relation of agreement or disagreement between 
two ideas. Now we may perceive this relation in two 
ways: we may either perceive it immediately, and then 
7 the knowledge is intuitive ; or we may not be able to per¬ 
ceive it immediately, we may be obliged to have recourse 
to another idea, or to several other ideas, which we put 
between the two ideas whose relation cannot be directly 
perceived, so that thereby we may seize and apprehend the 
relation which escapes us. Knowledge is then called 
demonstrative. (B. IY. ch. II. § 1, 2.) Locke there 
makes an excellent remark which ought not to be omitted, 
and for which it is just to give him credit. No doubt we 
are often compelled to resort to demonstration, to the in¬ 
terposition of one or more ideas, in order to perceive the 
latent relation of two ideas; but this new idea which we 
interpose between the two others, it is necessary that we 
\ should perceive its relation to each of the others. Now if 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


221 


the perception of this relation between that idea and the 
two others, is not intuitive, if it is demonstrative, it would 
be necessary to have recourse again to a new idea, and 
thus on ad infinitum . The perception of the relation 
between the middle term and the extremes must therefore 
be intuitive ; and it must be so in all the degrees of deduc¬ 
tion ; so that demonstrative evidence is grounded upon 
intuitive, and always pre-supposes it. 

B. IY. ch. II. § 7. “Each step must have intuitive 
evidence .” “ Now in every step reason makes in demon¬ 

strative knowledge, there is an intuitive knowledge of that 
agreement or disagreement it seeks with the next interme¬ 
diate idea, which it uses as a proof; for if it were not so 
that yet would need a proof; since without the perception 
of such agreement or disagreement, there is no knowledge 
produced. If it be perceived by itself, it is intuitive 
knowledge; if it cannot be perceived by itself, there is need 
of some intervening idea, as a common measure to show 
their agreement or disagreement. By which it is plain 
that every step in reasoning that produces knowledge, has 
intuitive certainty; which when the mind perceives, there 
is no more required but to remember it, to make the 
agreement or disagreement of the ideas, concerning which 
we inquire, visible and certain. So that to make any thing 
a demonstration, it is necessary to perceive the immediate 
agreement of the intervening ideas, whereby the agreement 
or disagreement of the two ideas under examination, (whereof 
the one is always the first, and the other the last in the 
account) is found. This intuitive perception of the agree¬ 
ment or disagreement of the intermediate ideas, in each 
step and progression of the demonstration, must also be 
carried exactly in the mind, and a man must be sure that 
no part is left out.’ 5 

Thus intuition and demonstration are the different modes 
of knowledge according to Locke. But are there no others ? 
Have we not knowledge which we acquired neither by 
intuition nor demonstration? How do we acquire a 
knowledge of the laws of external nature ? Take which 
you please, gravitation for instance. Certainly there is no 
simple intuition and immediate evidence here ; for experi- 


222 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


ments multiplied and combined, are necessary to give the 
slightest law; and even this will not suffice, since the 
slightest law surpasses the number, whatever it be, of 
experiments from which it is drawn. There is therefore 
need of an intervention of some other operation of the 
mind besides intuition. Is it demonstration ? Impossible; 
for demonstration is the perception of a relation between 
two ideas by means of a third, but it is upon this condition, 
that the latter should be more general than the two others, 
in order to embrace and connect them. To demonstrate 
is, in the last analysis, to deduce the particular from the 
gene ral. Now what is the more general physicaUaw from 
which gravitation can be deduced P We have not deduced 
the knowledge of gravitation from any other knowledge 
anterior to it, and which involves it in the germ. How, 
then, have we acquired this knowledge, which we certainly 
have; and in general, how have we acquired the knowledge 
of physical laws ? A phenomenon having been presented 
a number of times, with a particular character and in 
particular circumstances, we have judged that if this same 
phenomena should appear in similar circumstances, it 
would have the same character; that is to say, we have 
generalized the particular character of this phenomenon. 
Instead of descending from the general to the particular, 
we have ascended from the particular to the general. This 
general character is what we call a law ; this law we have 
not deduced from a more general law or character; we 
.4 have derived it from particular experiments in order to 
transfer it beyond them. It is not a simple resumption, 
nor a logical deduction ; it is neither simple intuition nor 
demonstration.-*! It is what we call induction.i It is to in¬ 
duction that we owe all our conquests over nature, all our 
discoveries of the laws of the world. For a long time 
natural philosophers contented themselves with very limited 
observations which furnished no great results, or with 
speculations which resulted in nothing but hypotheses. 
Induction for a long time was only a natural process of 
the human mind, of which men make use for acquiring the 
knowledge they needed in respect to the external world, 
without explaining it, and without its passing from practice 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 223 

into science. It is to Bacon, chiefly, we owe, not the 
invention, but the discovery and scientific exposition of 
.this process. It is strange that Locke, a countryman of 
Bacon, and who belongs to his school, should in his 
classification of the modes of knowledge, have permitted 
precisely that one to escape him to which the school of 
Bacon has given the greatest celebrity, and placed in the 
clearest light. It is strange that the whole Sensual school, 
which pretends to be the legitimate offspring of Bacon, 
should, after the example of Locke, have almost forgotten 
the evidence of induction among the different species of 
evidence, and that its first entrance upon what an experi¬ 
mental school should have done, it has neglected induction 
to bury itself in demonstration.) This is the reason of the 
singular but undeniable phenomenon, that in the eighteenth 
century, the logic of the sensual school was scarcely any¬ 
thing but a reflection of the peripatetic scholasticism of the 
middle age, of that scholasticism which admitted no other 
processes in knowledge than intuition and demonstra¬ 
tion. 

Let us now see what, according to Locke, are the dif¬ 
ferent degrees of knowledge. 

Sometimes we know with certainty, without the least 
blending of doubt with our knowledge. Sometimes also, 
instead of absolute knowledge, we have only probable 
knowledge. Probability also has its degrees, and its 
particular grounds. Locke treats them at large. I advise 
you to read with care the chapters, not indeed very pro¬ 
found, but sufficiently exact, in which he discusses the 
different degrees of knowledge. I cannot go into all these 
details, but will content myself with pointing out to you 
the fourteenth, fifteenth and sixteenth chapters of the fourth 
book. I shall particularly notice a distinction to which 
Locke attaches great importance, and which, in my opin¬ 
ion, is without foundation. 

We either know in a certain and absolute manner, or 
we know merely in a manner more or less probable. Locke 
chooses to employ the term knowledge exclusively to sig¬ 
nify absolute knowledge, that which is raised above all pro¬ 
bability. The knowledge which is wanting in certainty—- 


224 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


simple conjecture, or presumption more or less probable— 
he calls judgment. 

B. IV. ch. XIV. § 4 : “ the mind has two faculties, 

conversant about truth and falsehood. First, knowledge , 
whereby it certainly perceives and is undoubtedly satisfied 
of the agreement, or disagreement of any ideas. Secondly , 
judgment, which is the putting ideas together, or separating 
them from one another in the mind, when their certain 
agreement or disagreement is not perceived, but presumed 
to be so ; which is, as the word imports, taken to be so, 
before it certainly appears.” 

But the general usage of all languages is contrary to so 
limited a sense of the word knowledge; a certain know¬ 
ledge, or a probable knowledge is always spoken of as 
knowledge in its different degrees. It is so in regal’d to 
judgment. As languages have not confined the term know¬ 
ledge to absolute knowledge, so thay have not limited the 
term judgment to knowledge merely probable. In some 
cases we pass certain and decisive judgments; in others 
we pass judgments which are only probable, or even pure¬ 
ly conjectural. In a word, judgments are infallible, or 
doubtful in various degrees; but doubtful or infallible, they 
are always judgments, and this distinction between know¬ 
ledge as exclusively infallible, and judgment as being ex¬ 
clusively probable, is verbal distinction altogether arbitrary 
and barren. Time has done justice to it by rejecting it; 
but it seems to have spared the theory on which the 
distinction is founded, the theory which makes both know¬ 
ledge and judgment consist in the perception of a relation 
of agreement or disagreement between two ideas. All ver- 
bial distinction laid aside, to know or to judge, is with Locke 
nothing but to perceive, intuitively or demonstratively, a 
relation of agreement or disagreement, whether certain or 
probable, between two ideas. This is the theory of know¬ 
ledge and of judgment according to Locke, reduced to its 
simplest expression. From Locke it passed into the 
Sensual school, where it enjoys undisputed authority, and 
forms the acknowledged theory of judgment. It requires 
then, and desrves a scrupulous examination. 

In the first place, let us accurately state the extent of 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


225 


this theory. It pretends not merely that there are judg¬ 
ments which are nothing else than perceptions of the 
relation of agreement or disagreement of ideas; but it 
pretends that eveiy judgment is subject to this condition. 
The question is concerning the truth of this universal 
assertion. 

Locke distinguishes four relations which the under¬ 
standing may perceive between ideas. (B. IV. ch. I. 
§ 3.) Ideas are either identical or diverse, a relation called 
by Locke identity or diversity; they have also simply 
a relation of some sort undetermined and called by Locke 
relation ; they have a relation either of simple co-existence 
or of necessary connection; and finally, they express a 
relation of real existence. Thus there can be only these 
four sorts of relations: 1, general relation; 2, identity or 
diversity ; 3, co-existence or necessary connection; 4, 
real existence. The whole question now before us is, 
whether these embrace everything, whether there is not 
some knowledge, some judgment which escapes these 
categories. Let us see then. Let us go from knowledge 
to knowledge, from judgment to judgment; if we can find 
no knowledge, no judgment, which is not the perception 
of one of these relations, then the theory of Locke is ab¬ 
solute. If, on the contrary, we find a single judgment 
which escapes this condition, the theory of Locke, so far 
as it is set up for an unlimited and universal theory, is 
destroyed. 

Let us take some knowledge or judgment. I propose 
the following judgment: two and three are five. This 
is not a chimera; it is a knowledge, a judgment; and it 
is certain. How do we acquire this knowledge, what are 
the conditions of this judgment ? 

The theory of Locke supposes three : 1, that there are 
two ideas present to the understanding, known anterior to 
the perception of relation; 2, that there is a comparison 
of these two ideas ; 3, that at the end of this comparison 
there is a perception of some relation between the two 
ideas. Two ideas, a comparison of them, a perception of 
a relation derived from the comparison: such are the con¬ 
ditions of the theory of Locke. 


226 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


Let us reflect: two and three make five. Where are 
the two ideas ? Two and three, and five. Suppose I 
had not these two ideas, these two terms; on the one 
hand, two and three, and on the other, five. Could I ever 
perceive that there was a relation between them of equa¬ 
lity, or inequality, identity or diversity ? No. And having 
these two terms, if I did not compare them, should I ever 
perceive their relation ? Certainly not. And if in com¬ 
paring them, their relation, spite of all my exertions, should 
escape my understanding, should I ever arrive at the re¬ 
sult, that two and three make five ? By no means. And 
suppose these three conditions to be supplied, is the re¬ 
sult infallibly obtained? I see nothing wanting to it. 
Thus far, then, the theory of Locke seems to work well. 
I might take another arithmetical example. But arith¬ 
metical examples have this peculiarity, that they are all 
alike. What in fact are arithmetical truths but relations 
of numbers ? They are nothing else. Arithmetical know¬ 
ledge, then, falls under the theory of Locke concerning 
knowledge; and an arithmetical judgment, if the expression 
may be used, is nothing else than the perception of a re¬ 
lation of numbers. Thus far then, the theory of Locke 
is perfectly sound. 

Shall we take Geometry ? But if geometrical truths are 
nothing but relations of magnitude, it is clear that no 
geometrical truth can be obtained, except under the con¬ 
dition of having previously two ideas of magnitude, then 
of comparing them, and then of deducing a relation of 
agreement or disagreement. And as all mathematics, as 
Newton has said, is only a universal arithmetic, it seems 
true that mathematical judgment in general is nothing but 
a perception of relations. 

Let us take other examples a little at hazard. I wish 
to know if Alexander is a truly great man. It is a ques¬ 
tion frequently agitated. It is evident that unless I have 
on the one hand the idea of Alexander, and on the other 
an idea of a truly great man, and unless I compare these 
two ideas, and perceive between them a relation of agree¬ 
ment or disagreement, I cannot decide whether Alexander 
is a great man or not. Here again we must necessarily 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


227 


have two ideas, a particular idea, that of Alexander, and a 
general idea, that of a great man, and we compare these 
two ideas to know if they agree or disagree with each 
other, if the predicate can be affirmed of the subject, if 
the subject falls under the predicate, etc. 

I wish to know if God is good. At first it is necessary 
that I should have the idea of the existence of God, of God 
so far forth as existing; then it is necessary that I should 
have the idea of goodness, an idea more or less extensive, 
more or less complete of it, so as to be able after a com¬ 
parison of the one with the other, to affirm that these two 
ideas have a relation of agreement. 

Such are, indeed, the conditions of knowledge, of judg¬ 
ment in these different cases. But let us explain the 
nature of these different cases. In the first place, let us 
examine the mathematical truths which lend themselves so 
readily to the theory of Locke. Arithmetical truths, for 
example, do they exist in nature ? No. And why not ? 
Because these relations which are called arithmetical truths, 
have for their terms not concrete quantities, that is to say, 
real quantities, but discrete, that is, abstract quantities. 
One, two, three, four, five,—all this has no existence in 
nature. Consequently, the relations between abstract and 
not real quantities no more have a real existence than 
their terms. Arithmetical truths are pure abstractions.— 
Again, does numeration and calculation begin, as in 
arithmetic, upon discrete and abstract quantities ? Does 
the human mind begin by abstract arithmetic ? By no 
means. It operates first upon concrete quantities, and it 
is only subsequently that it rises from the concrete to the 
conception of those general relations which constitute arith¬ 
metical truths properly so called. They have then, two 
characteristics: 1, they are abstract; 2, they are not 
primitive; they suppose previous concrete judgments, in 
the bosom of which they reside until deduced by abstrac¬ 
tion and raised to the height of universal truths.—The 
same may be said of the truths of geometry. The 
magnitudes with which geometry has to do, are not con¬ 
crete magnitudes; they are abstract, having no existence 
in nature. For there are in nature only imperfect figures, 


228 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


and the operations of geometry are conditioned by perfect 
figures, the perfect triangle, the perfect circle, etc., that is 
to say, by figures which have no real existence, but are 
pure conceptions of the mind. The relations of abstractions 
can then be nothing but abstractions.—Still further, the 
human mind no more begins by conceiving perfect figures, 
than it begins by conceiving the abstract relations of 
numbers. It first conceives the concrete, the imperfect 
triangle, the imperfect circle, from which it subsequently 
deduces by abstraction the perfect triangle and circle of 
geometry. The truths of geometry are not then primitive 
truths in the human understanding.—The other examples 
which we have taken, the judgments upon which we have 
tried the theory of Locke, namely, that Alexander is a 
great man, and that God is good, have the same character. 
They are problems instituted by later reflection and intel¬ 
ligent curiosity, in the progress of the ulterior development 
of the understanding. And in a word, hitherto we have 
verified the theory of Locke only in respect to abstract 
judgments, and which are not primitive. Let us now 
take judgments marked with other characteristics, and 
pursue the course of our experiments. 

Look at another knowledge, another judgment, which I 
propose for your examination, namely, the judgment: I 
exist. You no more doubt the certainty of this know¬ 
ledge than that two and three make five. You would 
sooner doubt the first than this. Well, then, let us 
submit this certain knowledge, this certain judgment: I 
exist, to the conditions of Locke’s general theory concern¬ 
ing knowledge. 

I will recall the conditions of this theory : 1, two ideas; 
2, a comparison of the two ideas ; 8, perception of some 
relation of agreement or disgreement. 

Now, what are the two ideas which should be the two 
terms of this relation and the basis of the comparison ? 
It is the idea of I, or myself, and the idea of existence, 
between which it is the object to find a relation of agree¬ 
ment or disagreement. 

Let us take good heed what we do. It is not the idea 
of our existence that is to be one of the two ideas which 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


229 


are to be objects of comparision. For what are we seeking 
after ? Our own existence. If we have it, we should not 
seek after it. We must not take the thing in question, 
our own existence, for granted. The idea of existence 
which is to be here one of the terms of comparison, is 
therefore the idea of existence in general, and not the 
particular idea of our own existence. Such is the rigorous 
condition of the problem. And what is the other idea, the 
second term of the comparison. It is the idea of myself, the 
I. But what are we seeking after ? I or self, as existing. 
We are not, then, to take it for granted; for that would 
be to take for granted the thing in question. It is not, 
then, the I, the myself, as existing, which should be the 
second term of the comparison : but an I, a self, which 
must necessarily be convinced as distinct from the idea 
with which it is intended to compare it, in order to know 
if it agrees or not, namely the idea of existence. It is a 
self, then, which must be conceived as not possessing 
existence, that is to say, an I, a myself, abstract and 
general. 

An abstract idea of myself, and an abstract idea of 
existence,—see the two ideas of which a comparison is to 
be made, in order to bring out the judgment in question! 
Reflect, I pray you; what are you in search of? Your 
own personal existence. Do not, then, take it for granted, 
since it is what you are seeking to find. Do not involve 
it in either of the two terms, from the comparison of 
which you are to get it. Since it should be only the 
product of the relation of these two terms, it should not 
be taken for granted in either of them, for then the 
comparison would be useless, and the truth would then be 
anterior to the comparison, and not (as the theory de¬ 
mands) the result of it. Such are the imperious conditions 
of the theory of Locke : two abstract ideas, the abstract 
idea of self, and abstract idea of existence. We are now 
to compare these two ideas, to see if they agree or disagree 
with each other, to perceive the relation of agreement or 
disagreement which binds or separates them. In the first 
place I might remark in passing, upon the expression of 
agreement or disagreement, and show how much it is 


230 


ELEMENTS OP PSYCHOLOGY. 


wanting in precision and distinctness ; but I will not do 
so. I take the words as Locke gives them. I allow his 
theory to unfold itself freely; I shall not repress it; I 
merely wish to see where it will arrive. It starts from 
two abstract terms; it compares them, and seeks a rela¬ 
tion of agreement or disagreement between them, between 
the idea of existence and the idea of self. It compares 
them, then; so be it. And what is the result ? A rela¬ 
tion, a relation of agreement. So be it again. I wish to 
make here but one remark. It is, that this relation, 
whatever it is, must necessarily be of the same nature as 
the two terms, which are its foundation. The two terms 
are abstract; the relation must then necessarily be abstract. 
What will be the result, then, of the perception of the 
relation, which I am very willing to suppose the agreement 
between the general and abstract idea of existence, and 
the general and abstract idea of self ? A truth of relation 
of the same nature as the two terms on which it is founded, 
namely an abstract knowledge, a logical knowledge of 
the non-contradiction found between the idea of existence 
of the idea of self, of the I, that is to say, the knowledge 
of the pure possibility of the existence of a self, of an I. 
But when you think, when, you believe, judge, that you 
exist, do you, I ask, merely pass the judgment that there 
is no contradiction between the general idea of self, and 
that of existence ? Not at all. The object of thought is 
not a possible self, but a real self, that quite determinate 
self which nobody confounds with a logical abstraction. 
The question is not about existence in general, but about 
your own, your own altogether personal and individual 
existence. On the contrary, the result of the judgment 
derived from the perception of a relation of agreement 
between the general and abstract idea of existence and the 
general and abstract idea of self, does not imply real exist¬ 
ence. It gives, if you please, possible existence, but it 
gives nothing more. 

See then, to what we come; there is no contradiction 
between the idea of self and the idea of existence. Now 
this result is not equivalent to that which is implied in the 
natural judgment passed by you when you say : I exist. 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


231 


The one is not the other. The theory of Locke gives the 
former only, but not the latter. This is the first vice of 
his theory. Look now at another. 

The judgment: I exist, is eminently a primitive judgment. 
It is the starting point of knowledge. Obviously you can 
know nothing before yourselves. Now in the theory of 
Locke, the two ideas upon which the judgment acts, and 
between which it is the object to discern the relation of 
agreement, are necessarily two abstract ideas. The radical 
supposition then of the theory of Locke is that the human 
mind, in regard to knowledge, commences by abstraction, 
a supposition gratuitous and falsified by facts. In fact 
we commence by the concrete and not by the abstract, and 
even if it were possible, (what I deny, and what I have de¬ 
monstrated to be impossible,) to derive reality from ab¬ 
straction, it would remain no less true that the process 
which Locke imputes to the human mind, is not that which 
the mind employs. 

The theory of Locke can give only an abstract judgment 
and not a judgment which reaches to real existence; and 
his theory, moreover, is not the true process of the human 
mind. Still further: this theory involves a paralogism. 

In fact Locke proposes to arrive at the knowledge of real 
and personal existence by the comparison of the idea of 
existence and the idea of self, by bringing them together in 
order to discern their relation. But in general, and to 
dispatch the question at a single stroke, the abstract being 
given us only in the concrete, to derive the concrete from 
the abstract is to take as a principle what could have been 
had only as a consequence; it is to ask what we are in 
search of, from precisely that which we could never have 
known but by means of that which we are in search of. 
And in regard to this particular case, under what condition 
have you the general and abstract idea of existence, and 
the general and abstract idea of self, which you compare in 
order to derive from them the knowledge of your own ex¬ 
istence ? Under this condition ; that you have already 
had the idea of your own existence. It is impossible that 
you should have ascended to the generalization of existence 
without having passed from the knowledge of some parti- 


232 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


cular existence ; and as neither the knowledge of the exis¬ 
tence of God, nor that of the existence of the external 
world can precede that of your own, it follows that the know¬ 
ledge of your own existence cannot but have been one of the 
bases of the abstract and general idea of existence; conse¬ 
quently to set out to derive the knowledge of your own exis¬ 
tence from the general idea of existence, is to fall into an 
evident paralogism. If Locke had not known that he existed, 
if he had not already acquired the knowledge of his own self* 
real and existent, he could never have had the general and 
abstract idea either of a self, nor of existence, those very 
ideas from which he seeks to obtain the knowledge of his 
personal self and existence.* 

Thus we have three radical objections against the theory 
of Locke: 

1. It starts from abstractions; consequently, it gives 
only an abstract result, and not the one you are seeking. 

2. It starts from abstractions, and consequently, it does 
not start from the true starting-point of the human intelli¬ 
gence. 

* [The reader will recollect the criticism of Reid upon Descar¬ 
tes’s celebrated cogito, ergo sum; and also Stewart’s vindication of 
it against Reid. Cousin has, the following remarks upon this 
topic:— 

“ Before Spinoza and Reid, Gassendi had attacked the enthymeme 
of Descartes.” “ The proposition, I think, therefore I am, supposes,” 
says Gassendi, “ this major: that which thinks, exists; and conse¬ 
quently involves a begging of the question. To this Descartes 
replies. “ I do not beg the question, for I do not suppose any 
major. I maintain that the proposition : I think, therefore I exist, 
is a particular truth which is introduced into the mind without re¬ 
course to any more general truth, and independently of any logical 
deduction. It is not a prejudice, but a natural judgment which at 
once and irresistibly strikes the intelligence.” “ The notion of ex¬ 
istence,” says he, in his reply to other objections, “ is a primitive 
notion, not obtained by any syllogism, but evident in itself; and 
the mind discovers it by intuition.”—Reasoning does not logically 
deduce existence from thought; but the mind cannot think without 
knowing itself, because being is given in and under thought: cogito 
ergo sum. The certainty of thinking does not go before the certain¬ 
ty of existence; contains and envelopes it: they are two contem¬ 
poraneous verities blended in one fundamental verity. This 
fundamental complex verity is the sole principle of the Cartesian 
philosophy.”— Fragmens Philosophiques. 314—321.—Tr.] 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


233 


3. It starts from abstractions, whicli it could never have 
obtained but by the help of concrete knowledge, the very 
concrete knowledge that it pretends to derive from the 
abstractions wherein they are taken upon supposition; con¬ 
sequently, it takes for granted the thing in question. 

The theory of Locke breaks down under these three 
objections. It is impossible to derive the real existing self 
from the forced and artificial bringing together of the ab¬ 
straction, existence, and the abstraction, self. But even if 
this were possible, it is not the process of the human mind, 
which it is our business to retrace and reproduce. And 
again, the process which the theory arbitrarily puts in its 
stead, is possible only under the condition of taking for 
granted the thing in question.—The judgment: I exist, 
escapes, therefore, in every way from the conditions of the 
theory of Locke. 

This judgment has two characteristics : 1, It is not 
abstract: it implies existence ; 2, it is a primitive judg¬ 
ment : all others take it for granted, involve the supposition 
of it, while in it no other is involved. 

Now observe, it was in regard to abstract, and if you will 
allow the expression, ulterior judgments, that the theory of 
Locke was before seen to hold true. But in this latter in¬ 
stance, the judgment implies existence, and is primitive; 
and the theory can no longer be verified. It remains, 
therefore, to choose between the theory, and the certainty 
of personal knowledge; for the former is absolutely unable 
to give the latter. 

So much for personal existence. It is the same in re¬ 
gard to all the modes of this existence, to our faculties, 
our operations, whether sensation, or will, or thought. 

Take whatever phenomenon you please: I feel; I willj 
I think. Take for instance: I think. This is commonly 
called a fact of consciousness; but to be conscious is still to 
know, (conscire sibi,) it is to believe, to affirm, to judge. 
When you say : I think, it is a judgment which you exer¬ 
cise and express ; when you are conscious of thinking, and 
do not say so, it is still a judgment which you exercise 
without expressing it. Now this judgment, whether ex¬ 
pressed or not, implies existence; it implies that you, a 


234 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


real being, actually exercise the real operation of thinking. 
Moreover, it is a primitive judgment, at least contempora¬ 
neous with the judgment that you exist. 

Let us test the theory of Locke in regard to this judg¬ 
ment, as we have tested it in regard to that other primitive 
and concrete judgment : I exist. 

Three conditions are necessary by the theory of Locke 
in order to explain and legitimate the judgment: I think; 
namely, two ideas, their comparison, a perception of relation 
between them. What in this case are the two ideas ? Ob¬ 
viously the idea of thinking on the one hand, and of I or my¬ 
self, on the other. But if it is the idea of thinking distinct 
from self, it is thinking considered apart from the subject, 
the I, from that subjective I, which is, you will not forget, 
the basis of all existence : it is, then, thinking abstracted 
from all existence, that is abstract thought, that is to say, 
the simple power of thinking, and nothing else. On the 
other hand, the self, which is the other necessary term of 
the comparison, cannot be a self which thinks, for you have 
just separated it from thought; it is, therefore, a self, which 
you are to consider abstracted from thinking. Lor if, in 
fact, you should suppose it thinking, you would have what 
you are in search of, and there would be no need of your 
making a laborious comparison. You might stop at one of 
the terms, which would give you the other, the self as think¬ 
ing, or, I think. But to avoid paralogism, you must suppose 
it as not thinking; and as your first legitimate term is thought 
separated from self, your second legitimate term must 
be self separated from thought, a self not thinking. 
And you wish to know if this self, taken independently of 
thinking, and this thinking taken independently of self, 
have a relation to each other of agreement or disagreement. 
Such is the question. It is then two abstractions you are 
going to compare. But once again, two abstract terms can 
engender only an abstract relation, and an abstract relation 
can engender only an abstract judgment, namely, the ab¬ 
stract judgment, that thinking and self are two ideas which 
imply no contradiction. Thus the theory of Locke applied 
to this judgment: I think, as to the other judgment: I 
exist, gives nothing but an abstract result, [the possibility 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


235 


of tlie truth of the proposition: I think, but not its actual 
truth, its reality,] an abstract truth which in no respect 
represents what passes in your mind when you judge that 
you think, and when you say : I think. 

Then, too, the theory of Locke makes the human mind 
begin by abstraction: but this is not the process by which 
it actually commences. 

Finally, it not only makes the mind to begin by abstrac¬ 
tion, but also to derive the concrete from the abstract, while 
in point of fact you could never have had the abstract, if 
you had not previously had the concrete. Y ou passed first, 
and naturally, this determinate, concrete, and synthetic judg¬ 
ment : I think ; and then afterwards as you began to exer¬ 
cise the faculty of abstraction, you made a division in the 
primitive synthesis; you considered separately, on the one 
hand, the thinking, that is to say, thought without the sub¬ 
ject, without the me , the self, that is, possible thinking,— 
and then, on the other hand, the self, the me, without the 
real attribute of thinking, that is to say, self by itself, the 
simple possibility of being : and now you are pleased art¬ 
ificially and too late, to re-unite, by a pretended relation of 
agreement, two terms which originally you did not have 
given you separate and disjoined, but united and confused 
in the synthesis of reality and of life. 

Thus the three preceding objections return here with the 
same force; and the theory of Locke can legitimately give 
you neither the knowledge of your own existence, nor the 
knowledge of any of your faculties, or operations; for what 
has been shown concerning the judgment: I think, may be 
shown likewise of the judgment: I will, I feel, and of all 
the attributes and modes of personal existence. 

Nor is it any more possible for the theoiy of Locke to 
give external existence. Take for instance the judgment: 
this body exists. The theory decides that you cannot have 
this knowledge but upon the condition of having perceived 
a relation of agreement between two ideas compared with 
each other. What are these two ideas ? Certainly not 
the idea of a body really existing; for you would then have 
what you are seeking ; nor is it any more the idea of actual 
existence. It is then the idea of a possible body, and the 


236 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


idea of a possible existence, two abstractions, which you 
are to compare. But you can deduce from them only this 
other abstraction : there is no logical incompatibility be¬ 
tween the idea of existence and the idea of body. Again, 
you commence by abstraction, which is contrary to the 
natural order. And finally, you begin by an abstraction 
which you would never have had, if you had not previously 
obtained the concrete knowledge, the very knowledge which 
you wish to derive from the comparison of your abstrac¬ 
tions. 

What has been shown concerning the existence of body, 
may be equally shown concerning the attributes by which 
body is known to us, solidity, form, colour, etc. Take for 
example, the quality of colour, commonly classed among the 
secondary qualities, but which is perhaps more inherent in 
body than is commonly believed. Be this, however, as it 
may, whether colour be a simple secondary quality or a 
primary quality of matter, let us see on what conditions, 
by the theory of Locke, we acquire the knowledge of it. 
In order to pass this judgment: this body is coloured , is it 
true that we must have two ideas, compare them, and 
perceive their relation P The two ideas, would be that of 
body and that of colour. But the idea of body must not here 
be the idea of a coloured-body, for then the single term would 
imply the other, would render the comparison useless, and 
would take for granted the thing in question. It must 
then be the idea of a body as not being coloured. The idea 
of colour also must not be the idea of a colour really 
existing; for a colour is real, or exists, only in a body, 
and the very condition of the operation which you wish to 
make, is the separation of colour from body. The question 
here, then, is not concerning a real colour, having such or 
such a determinate shade, but of colour abstracted from 
all that determines it, all that makes it special and real. 
The question is only concerning the abstract and general 
idea of colour. Prom whence it results that the two ideas 
you have, are general and abstract ideas; and from abstrac¬ 
tions you can derive only abstractions. And again, you 
commence by abstraction; you go contrary to the true 
natural process. And finally, which is the most crushing 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


237 


objection, it is obvious that you could never have gained the 
general idea of colour except in the idea of some particular 
and positive colour, which you could not have gained except 
in that of a body figured and coloured. It is not by the help 
of the general idea of colour, and the general idea of body,* 
that you learn that bodies are coloured; but on the contrary, 
it is because you have previously known that such a body 
was coloured, that afterwards separating what was united 
in the primitive synthesis, you were able to consider on 
the one hand, the idea of body, and on the other the idea 
of colour, abstracting one from the other; and it is then 
only that you could have instituted a comparison in order 
to explain what you already knew. 

In general: judgments are of two sorts, either those in 
which we acquire what we were before ignorant of; or those 
reflex judgments in which we only explain to ourselves 
what we already knew. The theory of Locke can, to a 
certain extent, explain the second, but the first entirely 
escape it. 

Tor instance, if we wish now to give account to ourselves 
of the idea of God, whom we already know, we take or we 
can take, on the one hand, the idea of God, and on the 
other, the idea of existence, and inquire if these two ideas 
agree or disagree. But to give account of the knowledge 
we have already acquired, is one thing; to acquire that 
knowledge, is another thing. Now certainly we did not 
at first acquire the idea of the existence of God, by placing 
the idea of God on one side and the idea of existence on 
the other, and then seeking their relation; for (to spare 
you superfluous repetitions, and not go over the whole circle 
of the three foregoing objections, but to fasten only upon 
the last of them) that would be to take for granted the 
thing in question. It is very evident that when we consider 
on the one hand the idea of God, and on the other the 
idea of existence, and when we seek the knowledge of the 
existence of God by comparing the two ideas, we do nothing 
but turn over and over what we already had, and what too 
we never could have had, if we had been reduced to gain 
it by the theory of Locke. It is perfectly easy to see that 
it is the same in regard to the attributes of God as in regard 


238 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


to his existence. Everywhere, then, and continually, we 
encounter the same objections, the same paralogism. 

The theory of Locke then can give neither God, nor 
body, nor self, nor their attributes : it gives every thing else, 
I allow, if any body wishes the concession. 

It gives mathematics, you will say. True, I have my¬ 
self said so, and I repeat it. It gives mathematics, geometry, 
and arithmetic, in so far as they are sciences of the relations 
of magnitude and numbers. It gives them, however, on 
one condition: that you are to consider these numbers 
and these magnitudes, as abstract, not implying existence. 
Now without doubt the science of geometry is an abstract 
science; but it has its bases in concrete ideas, and real 
existences. One of these bases is the idea of space, which, 
as you know,* is given in this judgment: every body is in 
a space. This is the proposition, the judgment, which gives 
us space, a judgment accompanied with perfect certainty 
of the reality of its object. We have but one single idea 
as the starting-point, namely, the idea of body ; then the 
mind by its own power, as soon as the idea of body is 
given it, conceives the idea of space and its necessary 
connection with body. A body being known, we cannot 
but judge that is in a space which contains it. From this 
judgment abstract the idea of space, and you have the 
abstract and general idea of space. But it was not anterior 
to the conception of the necessary relation of space to body, 
any more than the relation was anterior to it; nor was it 
posterior to the relation, nor the relation posterior to it. 
They both reciprocally imply each other, and are given us 
in the same judgment as soon as body is known. To lay 
down first the idea of space, and the idea of body, and 
then to seek by comparing them to deduce the relation 
which connects them, is to overthrow the order of intel¬ 
lectual development; for the idea of space alone, supposes 
already this total judgment, that every body is necessarily 
in space. The judgment therefore cannot come from the 
idea ; on the contrary, the idea comes from the judgment. 
It is not difficult to deduce the judgment from the idea, 
which supposes it, but it would require to be explained 
* See Chapter II. 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


239 


from whence comes the idea anterior to the judgment. 
There is no difficulty in finding a relation between body 
and space, when we know body and space; but it would 
be difficult for Locke to show how he obtained that idea of 
space, just as we have seen in regard to the idea of body, 
of God, of colour, of existence, etc. To suppose that the 
necessary idea is given us by the comparison of two ideas, 
one of which is already the idea of space, is a vicious 
reasoning in a circle, and a ridiculous paralogism. This 
is the rock on which the theory of Locke perpetually 
breaks. 

The other idea upon which geometry rests is the idea 
of magnitude, which contains the idea of point, the idea of 
line, etc. Magnitude, point, line, are ulterior and abstract 
conceptions, which evidently suppose the idea of some real 
body, of a solid existing in nature. Now the idea of solidity, 
like every idea, is given us in a judgment: and it is neces¬ 
sary that we should judge that such a solid exists, in order 
to conceive the idea of solidity by itself. How, then, do 
we judge that such a solid exists ? According to the theory 
of Locke, there must be two ideas, a comparison of those 
two ideas, and a perception of their agreement. And what 
are the two ideas which are to serve as the terms of the 
judgment: this solid exists ? I acknowledge I do not see. 
Compelled by the hypothesis to find them, I can discover 
no others than the idea of solidity and that of existence, 
which we are to compare in order to see if they agree or 
disagree. The theory requires all this scaffolding. But 
is there any need of destroying it piece by piece, in order 
to overthrow it ? Is it not enough to recollect that the 
solid in question, being deprived of existence, since it is 
separated from the idea of existence, is nothing but the 
abstraction of solidity, and that this abstraction, to which 
it is the object to give reality, in order to deduce the 
existence of the solid, could never have been formed with¬ 
out the previous conception of a real solid, and really 
existing ? The abstraction, line, point, etc., suppose such 
or such a real solid, a primitive and concrete knowledge, 
which we can never deduce from ulterior abstractions 
without falling into a vicious circle, and taking away 


240 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


from all geometrical conception their natural and real 
basis. 

Thus, then, the two bases , the two fundamental ideas of 
Geometry, namely, the idea of space, and the idea of soli¬ 
dity, can never be explained by Locke’s theory of knowledge 
and judgment. 

The same is true in regard to the fundamental basis of 
Arithmetic. This basis is evidently unity, not a collective 
unity, for example : four representing two and two, five 
representing two and three, but a unity which is found in 
all collective unities, measures them and values them. 
This unity Arithmetic conceives in an abstract manner; 
but abstraction not being the starting point in the human 
mind, the abstract unity must have been given to us at 
first in some concrete unity, really existing. What is then 
this concrete, really existing unity, the source of the ab¬ 
stract idea of unity ? It is not body ; that is indefinitely 
divisible. It is the me, the self, identical, and consequently 
one under all the variety of its acts, its thoughts, its sen¬ 
sations. And how, by the theory of Locke, could this 
knowledge be acquired, the concrete knowledge of the 
unity of self which is the basis of the abstract idea of unity 
which is the basis of Arithmetic ? It is necesary that we 
should have had, on the one hand, the idea of self, not as 
being one, that is, without reality, (the identity and unity 
of self being implied in its existence from the very first 
moment of memory,) and on the other hand, the idea of 
a unity distinct from self without subject, and consequently 
without reality : and then comparing these, that we should 
have perceived their relation of agreement. Now here all 
my objections come up again, and I will briefly recapitulate 
them: 

1. It is abstract unity and an abstract me or self, from 
which you start; but the abstract unity and the abstract 
me brought together and compared, will give you nothing 
but an abstract relation, and not a real relation, an abstract 
unity, and not the real and integrant unity of the me. You 
will not therefore have that concrete idea of unity, which 
is the necessary basis of the abstract idea of unity, which 
again is the basis of Arithmetic, the measure of all numbers. 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 241 

2. You start from abstraction without having passed 
through the concrete ; which is contrary to the natural 
order of the understanding. 

3. Finally, you are guilty of a paralogism, since you 
wish to obtain the integrant unity of the I, of self, from 
the comparison of two abstractions which involve the sup¬ 
position of precisely what you are seeking. 

The theory of Locke therefore cannot give the basis of 
Geometry and Arithmetic, that is, of the abstract sciences. 
It works well in the field of Geometry and Arithmetic, in 
as far as they are abstract sciences; but these abstract 
sciences, and all mathematics, depend in the last analysis 
upon primitive cognitions which imply existence; and those 
primitive congnitions which imply existence cannot be 
brought anywhere within the theory of Locke. Now we 
have seen that the theory fails equally and on the same 
grounds, in respect to the knowledge of personal existence, 
that of bodies, and that of God. It follows, then, in 
general, and in the last result, that the theory of Locke 
is valid only in respect to pure abstraction; and that it 
breaks to pieces as soon as it is brought into contact with 
any reality to be known, of whatever sort. 

The general and unlimited pretension of Locke, therefore, 
that all knowledge, every judgment, is nothing but the 
perception of a relation of agreement or disagreement be¬ 
tween two ideas,—this pretension is convicted in every way 
of error, and even of absurdity. 

I am afraid this discussion of Locke’s theory of know¬ 
ledge may appear somewhat subtle; but when one wishes 
to follow error in all its windings, and to untie, methodi¬ 
cally, by analysis and dialectics, the knot of sophistical 
theories, instead of cutting them at once by simple good 
sense, one is obliged to engage in apparent subtleties in 
following the track of those we wish to combat. At this 
price alone we can seize and confound them. 

I am afraid, too, that this discussion seems to you very 
prolonged; and yet it is not finished, for it is not yet 
penetrated to the true root of the theory of Locke. This 
theory,—that every judgment, all knowledge is nothing 
but the perception of a relation between two ideas,—sup- 
Y 


242 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY, 


poses and contains another theory, which is the principle 
of the former. The examination of the one is indispensa¬ 
ble to complete that of the other, and to determine the 
judgment we ought to pass definitively upon it. 




CRITICAL EXAMINATION 


OF 

LOCKE’S ESSAY 

ON 

THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 

CHAPTER NINTH. 


Y 2 




CONTENTS OF CHAPTER IX. 


Continuation of the preceding chapter. That the theory of judg¬ 
ment, as the perception of a relation of agreement or disagreement 
between ideas, supposes that every theory is founded upon a com¬ 
parison. Refutation of the theory of comparative judgment.—Of 
axioms.—Of identical propositions—Of Reason and of Faith.—Of 
Syllogism.—Of Enthusiasm.—Of the cause of Error.—Division of 
the Sciences.—Conclusion of the examination of the Fourth Book 
of Locke’s Essay. 


CHAPTER IX. 


I believe I have sufficiently refuted, by its results, the 
theory of Locke, which makes knowledge or judgment to 
consist in a perception of the relation of agreement or dis¬ 
agreement between ideas. I have demonstrated, I believe, 
that this theory cannot give reality, existences; that it 
starts from abstraction and results in abstraction.—I now 
come to examine this same theory under another aspect, 
not any longer in its results, but in its principles, in its 
essential principle, in its very condition.* 

It is evident that judgment can be the perception of a 
relation of agreement or disagreement of ideas, only on 
condition that a comparison be made between the ideas. 
Every judgment of relation is comparative. This is the 
first and the last principle of the theory of Locke ; a prin¬ 
ciple which the infallible analysis of time has successively 
disengaged and placed at the head of the Sensual school. 
In its germ, at least, it is found in the fourth Book of 
Locke, and there we will take it up and examine it. 

We observe then, that the theory of comparative judg¬ 
ment, like that which it involves and governs, is an unlimited 
and absolute theory. It pretends to explain all our know¬ 
ledge, all our judgments; so that if the theory is correct, 
there ought not to be a single judgment which is not a 
comparative judgment. I might then, I ought even, in 

* [Locke’s theory of Knowledge is that knowledge is derived 
solely by comparing ideas, considered as representative images, and 
discerning a relation of agreement or disagreement between them. 
It therefore involves three distinct positions : 1, ideas as repre¬ 
sentative images ; 2, a relation of agreement or disagreement between 
them; 3, a comparison made between them. The theory has been 
refuted in regard to the first two positions. It remains to examine 
the third ; which is done in this chapter.—T r.] 


246 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


this, as in the preceding lecture, to go from judgment to 
judgment, examining if they are in fact the fruit of a com¬ 
parison. But this would lead me to a great length, and 
the space I have yet to go over admonishes me to hasten 
my progress. I will say then all at once, that if there are 
many judgments which are undeniably comparative, there 
are also very many which are not, and that here again every 
judgment which implies reality of existence, excludes all 
comparison. Let us begin by accurately recognising the 
conditions of a comparative judgment, then we will test 
these conditions in regard to judgments which imply ex¬ 
istence. We shall without doubt get again somewhat into 
our former reasonings; but it will be requisite, in order to 
pursue and force the theory of Locke into its last hold. 

In order to make a comparison, there must be two terms 
to be compared. That these terms may be abstractions or 
realities, is a point not any longer to our purpose to exam¬ 
ine; there must always be two terms, or the comparison is 
impossible. And it is necessary that these terms should 
be known previously to the comparison which one wishes 
to make ; that they should be present to the mind, before 
the mind can compare them and judge. All this is very 
simple ; yet it is sufficient to overthrow the theory of com¬ 
parative judgment, in respect to reality and existence. For 
there, in fact, I maintain that judgment does not depend 
and cannot depend upon two terms. 

Let us take, for example, personal existence, and see 
what are the two terms which are to be compared in order 
to derive from them this judgment: I exist . We will, for 
this time, have nothing to say about the abstraction of self, 
and the abstraction of existence, which as we have seen, can 
give only an abstract judgment. Let us take an hypothesis 
more favourable; let us come nearer to reality. It is 
indubitable, that if we had never thought, if we had never 
acted, never felt, we should never have known that we 
exist. Sensation, action, thinking, some phenomenon ap¬ 
pearing on the theatre of consciousness, is absolutely neces¬ 
sary, in order that the understanding may be able to refer 
this phenomenon to the subject who experiences, to that 
subject which is ourselves. If, then, knowledge is here the 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


247 


fruit of a comparative judgment, the two terms of this 
judgment must be, on the one hand, action, sensation, 
thought, and in general every phenomenon of consciousness; 
and on the other hand, the subject, the self or me. I do 
not see any other possible terms of comparison. 

Now what is the nature of these two terms P And first, 
what is that of the phenomenon of consciousness. The 
phenomenon of consciousness is given by an immediate 
apperception which attains it and knows it directly; and it is 
because this knowledge is direct, that it is entire and 
adequate to the reality itself. See, then, already a know¬ 
ledge ; I say a knowledge, for it is either a mere dispute 
about words, or else an apperception of consciousness is 
knowledge or it is nothing. Now if there is knowledge, 
there has been judgment; for apparently there has been a 
belief of knowledge, an affirmation of the truth of this 
knowledge, tacit or express; the affirmation has taken 
place solely in the depths of the intelligence, or it has been 
pronounced on the lips in words: at all events it has taken 
place. And to affirm is to judge. There has then been a 
judgment. Now there is here again only a single term, 
namely, the sensation, or action, or thought, in a word, a 
phenomenon of consciousness; there cannot then have been 
a comparison. According to Locke, then, there cannot 
have been a judgment, if every judgment is comparative. 
All our knowledge is resolvable in the last analysis, into 
affirmations of true or false, into judgments; and it is 
contradictory to say that the judgment which gives the 
first knowledge we have, the knowledge of consciousness, 
is a comparative judgment, since this knowledge has but a 
single term, and there must be two terms for every com¬ 
parison. This single term, however, is a knowledge, and 
consequently it supposes a judgment, but a judgment which 
does not fall under the conditions which Loeke assigns for 
every judgment. 

Thus, of the two necessary terms of the comparison from 
which should result the judgment: I exist , the first by 
itself -alone comprehends a knowledge, a judgment, which 
is not and cannot be comparative. It is just so in regard 
to the second term. If every phenomenon of consciousness. 


248 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


in so far as known, implies already a judgment, it is evident 
that the I, the self\ which ought to be known also in order 
to be the second term of the comparison, implies, likewise, 
from the very fact of its being known, a judgment, and 
that a judgment which cannot have been comparative. In 
fact, if the comparison of a sensation, a volition, or a thought 
with the personal self, the me, is the foundation of the 
judgment: I exist, it follows that the phenomenon, of 
consciousness, and the being, me, which are to be the terms 
of the comparison, ought not and cannot, either of them, 
come from the comparison which has not yet taken place. 
These two terms nevertheless constitute cognitions; the 
second particularly is an important and fundamental know¬ 
ledge, which evidently implies a judgment. The theory 
of comparative judgment falls to pieces, then, in respect 
to the second term as well as the first; and the two terms 
necessary, according to Locke, in order that a judgment 
may take place, contain each a judgment, and a judgment 
without any comparison. 

But there is a second and still greater difficulty. The 
special characteristic of all knowledge of consciousness, is 
directness and immediateness. There is an immediate and 
direct apperception of a sensation or volition or a thought; 
hence it is that you know them perfectly, you can observe and 
describe them with certainty, in all their modes and shades, in 
all their characteristics, relative or particular, fugitive or per¬ 
manent. Here the judgment has no other principle than the 
faculty of judging, and the consciousness itself. There is no 
principle, general or particular, on which consciousness is 
obliged to depend in order to perceive its own objects. 
Undoubtedly an act of attention is necessary, or a phenome¬ 
non, sensitive, active, or intellectual, may take place, and 
we shall not perceive it. An act of attention is the con¬ 
dition of all consciousness; but when this condition is ful¬ 
filled, the phenomena of consciousness are perceived and 
known directly. But it is not with being, with essence as 
with a phenomenon ; it is not with the self, as with the sen¬ 
sation, volition, or thought. Suppose, when any pheno¬ 
menon of consciousness is directly perceived, that the 
understanding is not provided with the principle: that 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


249 


every phenomenon supposes a being, every quality supposes 
a subject,—the understanding in that case would never be 
able to form the judgment, that under the sensation, 
thought or volition, there is being, the subject I. And 
bear in mind I do not mean to say that the understanding 
must know this principle in its general and abstract form; 
I have shown in another place that such is not the primitive 
form of principles.* I merely say that the understanding 
[by the ultimate law of its action] must, consciously or 
unconsciously, be directed by this principle, in order to affirm 
and judge, or even to suspect (which is still judging) that 
there is some being under the phenomena which conscious¬ 
ness perceives. This principle, properly speaking, is the 
principle of being; the principle by which self or personality 
is revealed, I say revealed, for self does not fall under the 
immediate apperception of consciousness ; the understan¬ 
ding conceives and believes it, without the consciousness 
attaining and seeing it. Sensation, volition, thought, are 
believed because they are in some sort seen by the internal 
intuition [immediate vision and perception] of conscious¬ 
ness ; the subject (I, self,) of the sensation, volition, thought, 
is believed without being seen either by the external senses 
nor by the consciousness; it is believed [by a law the mind] 
because it is conceived. The phenomenon alone is visible 
to the consciousness, the being is invisible; but the one 
is a sign of the other. The visible phenomenon reveals 
the invisible being, on the faith of the principle in ques¬ 
tion, without which the understanding would never 
come forth from the consciousness, [would never project 
itself] from the visible, the phenomenal, would never attain 
the invisible, the substance, the self. Hence the opposite 
nature of the knowledge of self, and of the knowledge of 
the phenomena of consciousness: the one entirely mani¬ 
fest, because it is direct, the other equally certain, but less 
manifest, because it is indirect. Again; do not forget 
this distinguishing characteristic of these two sorts of 
knowledge : the one is a truth without doubt, but a 
contingent truth, the truth, namely, that at some particular 

* See Chap. IV. 


250 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


moment there is some particular phenomenon under the 
eye of consciousness; while the other, when once its con¬ 
dition is supplied, is a necessary truth, for as soon as an 
apperception of consciousness is given we cannot help 
judging that the subject of it, the self, I, exists. Thus 
in regard to the second term, the subject, the me, there is 
not only knowledge and consequently judgment, as is the 
case in regard to the first term ; but there is also a know¬ 
ledge and judgment marked with characteristics altogether 
peculiar. It is, then, entirely absurd to derive the judgment 
of personal existence from the comparison of two terms, of 
which the second, in order to be known, supposes already 
a judgment of a character so remarkable. And it is very 
evident that this judgment is not comparative; for from 
what comparison could the 3elf proceed? Invisible, it 
cannot be brought under the eye of consciousness along 
with the visible phenomenon, in order that they may be 
compared together. It is not then from a comparison of 
the two terms that the certainty of the existence of the 
second is derived; for this second term is known all at 
once; with a certainty which neither increases, decreases, 
which has no degrees. Far from the knowledge of self 
and personal existence coming from a comparison between 
a phenomenon and self, taken as correlative terms, it is 
enough to have one single term, namely, a phenomenon of 
consciousness; and then, on the instant, and without the 
second term, self, being previously known, the under¬ 
standing, by its own innate efficacy and by the principle 
which in such a case directs it, conceives and in some sort 
divines, but divines infallibly, this second term, as the 
necessary subject of the first. After having thus conceived 
the second term, the understanding can, if it pleases place it 
beside the second, and compare the subject, with the pheno¬ 
menon of sensation, volition, thought; but this comparison 
teaches it only what it already knew ; and comparison can 
do this only because the understanding already had the 
two terms which contain all the knowledge sought from 
a comparison, and which were acquired anterior to all 
comparison, by two different judgments, whose only point 
of resemblance is that they are not comparative. 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


251 


Thus the judgment of personal existence does not depend 
upon the comparison of the two terms, but upon a single 
term, the phenomenon of consciousness. The latter is 
given immediately, and it having the understanding con¬ 
ceives the other, that is, self and personal existence, hitherto 
unknown and consequently incapable of serving as the second 
term of a comparison. Now what is true of personal exist¬ 
ence, is true of all other existences and of the judgments 
which reveal them ; these judgments rest originally upon a 
single datum. 

How do we know the external world, bodies and their 
qualities, according to the theory of Locke ? To begin with 
the qualities of bodies. If we know them, it is only by a 
judgment founded upon a comparison, that is upon two 
terms previously known. Such is the theory : but it is 
altogether falsified by fact. 

I experience a sensation, painful or agreeable, which is 
perceived by consciousness ; this is all that is directly given 
me, and nothing more, for we must not take for granted the 
thing in question, the qualities of bodies. It is our busi¬ 
ness to arrive at the knowledge of them, not to take for 
granted that they are already known. And you understand 
in what way we come at the knowledge of them, in what 
way we pass from the sensation, the apperception of a phe¬ 
nomenon of consciousness to the knowledge of the qualities 
of external objects.* It is by virtue of the principle of 
causality, which the instant any phenomenon begins to 
appear, leads us irresistibly to seek for a cause of it. In our 
inability to refer to ourselves the cause of the involuntary 
sensation actually under the eye of consciousness, we refer 
it to a cause other than ourselves, foreign to us, that is 
external. We make as many causes as there are distinct 
classes of sensations, and these different classes are the 
powers, the properties, the qualities of bodies. It is not 
therefore by a comparison that we come to know the quali¬ 
ties of bodies ; for the sensation alone is given us at first, 
and it is, so to say, upon the basis of this sensation alone, 
that the mind rests the judgment, that it is impossible this 
sensation should be self-produced, that it therefore refers it 
* See Chapter IV. 


252 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


to a cause, to an external cause, which is some particular 
qualities of bodies. 

The theory of comparison cannot then give the qualities 
of body: still less does it give the substratum, the subject of 
these qualities. You do not believe that there is merely 
extension, resistance, solidity, hardness, softness, savour, 
colour, etc., before you ; but you believe that there is some¬ 
thing which is coloured, extended, resistant, solid, hard, etc. 
Now it will not do to begin by presupposing this something 
at the same time with its qualities, so as to have these two 
terms: the external qualities, hardness, softness, etc., and 
something really solid, hard, soft, etc., —two terms which 
you are then to compare in order to decide whether they 
agree or disagree. This is not the actual process; but at 
first you have solely the qualities, which are given you by 
the application of the principle of causality to your sen¬ 
sations ; then, and from this datura alone, you urge that 
these qualities cannot but belong to some subject of the 
same nature; and this subject is body.* Is it not there¬ 
fore to the comparison of two terms of which the one, 
namely the subject of sensible qualities, is at first entirely 
unknown, that you owe the knowledge of body. 

It is just so in regard to space. There again, you have 
but a single term, a single datum, namely bodies; and 
upon that alone, without having any other term, you judge 
and cannot help judging that bodies are given in space. 
The knowledge of space is the fruit of this judgment which 
has nothing to do with any comparison ; for you knew 
nothing of space anterior to the judgment ; but the body 
being given, you judge that space exists, and it is then 
only, that the idea of space comes up, that is to say, the 
second term.* 

The same analysis applies to time. In order to judge 
that the succession of events is in time, you do not have, 
on the one hand, the idea of succession, and on the other, 
the idea of time : you have but one term, namely, the suc¬ 
cession of events, whether external events, or internal events, 
our sensations, thoughts, or acts; and this single term being 
given, you judge, without comparing it with time which 

* See Chapter III. 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 253 

is as yet profoundly unknown to you, that the succession 
of events is in time: from hence the idea, the knowledge 
of time. Thus this knowledge, so far from being the fruit 
of a comparison, becomes the possible basis of an ulterior 
comparison, only on the condition that it is first given you 
in a judgment not dependent upon two terms, but upon a 
single term, namely, the succession of events.* 

This is still more evident in regard to the infinite. If 
we know the infinite, we must by the theory of Locke, know' 
it through a judgment, and that a comparative judgment. 
Now the two terms of this judgment cannot be two finite 
terms; for the finite could never give the infinite ; it must 
be the finite and the infinite between which the mind dis¬ 
covers the relation of agreement or disagreement. But I 
have, I think, demonstrated, and I need here only refer to 
it,* that it is enough for us to have the idea of the finite 
given us, and we are instantly led to the judgment that 
the infinite exists; or, to keep within the limits of the 
topics there discussed,* the infinite is an attribute of time 
and of space, which we necessarily conceive, by occasion 
of the finite and contingent attributes of body and of suc¬ 
cession. The mind is so constituted, that, on occasion of 
the idea of the finite, it cannot help conceiving the idea of 
the infinite. The finite is previously known, it is known 
directly, by the senses or by consciousness; the infinite is 
invisible and escapes our grasp ; it is only conceivable and 
comprehensible; it escapes the senses or the consciousness, 
and falls only under the reason; it is neither one of the 
previous terms of a comparison, nor the fruit of it; it is 
given us in a judgment depending only on a single basis, 
the idea of a finite. So much for judgments pertaining to 
existence in general. 

There are also many other judgments, not relating to 
existence, which present the same character. I shall con¬ 
tent myself with referring to the judgments of good and 
evil, of the beautiful and the opposite. In both cases the 
judgement depends upon a single term ; and it is the judg¬ 
ment itself which constitutes the other term, instead of 
resulting from the prior comparison of two terms. 

* See Chapter III. 

Z 


254 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


According to tlie theory of Locke, in order to judge 
whether an action is right or wrong, good or bad, it is 
requisite to have, first, the idea of action, and then, the idea 
of right and wrong, and then, to compare the one with the 
other. But in order to compare an action with the idea 
of right and wrong, it is necessary to have that idea, that 
knowledge ; and that knowledge supposes a judgment. The 
question then is : whence comes this judgment, and how 
is it formed. Now we have seen,* that in view of parti¬ 
cular actions, which to the eyes of the senses are destitute 
of any moral character, the understanding is so constituted, 
that it takes the initiative, and attributes to these actions, 
though indifferent to the sensibility, the quality of right or 
wrong, good or bad. From this primitive judgment, which 
undoubtedly has its law, analysis at a later period derives 
the idea of right and wrong, which thenceforward serves as 
the explicit rule of our subsequent judgments. 

The forms of objects are to the sense, whether external 
or internal, neither beautiful nor ugly. Take away the 
intelligence, and there is for us no longer any beauty in 
external forms and things. What in fact do the senses 
teach you concerning forms P Nothing, except that they 
are round or square, coloured, etc. What does conscious¬ 
ness teach you ? Nothing, but that they give you agreeable 
or disagreeable sensations. But to be agreeable or dis¬ 
agreeable, square or round, green or yellow, etc., is one 
thing; to be beautiful or ugly, is another thing. There 
is an immense abyss between the two ideas. While the 
senses and the consciousness perceive such or such a form, 
such or such a feeling more or less agreeable; the under¬ 
standing on the other hand, conceives the beautiful, as it 
does the good and the true, by a primitive and spontane¬ 
ous judgment, whose whole force and validity resides in that 
of the understanding and its laws, and of which the sole 
datum and condition is an external perception. 

I have then demonstrated, as it seems to me, that the 
theory of Locke, which makes knowledge to rest upon 
eomparisou, that is, upon two terms previously known, does 
not explain the true process of the mind in the acquisition 

* Chapter V. 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


255 


of a great amount and variety of its knowledge. And in 
general, I here bring forward again the criticism, I have 
so many times made upon Locke, that he always confounds: 
either , the antecedents of a knowledge with the knowledge 
itself, as when he confounded body with space, succession 
with time, the finite with the infinite, effect with cause, 
qualities and their aggregate with substance; or, which 
is a mistake not less grave, the consequences of a knowledge 
with the knowledge itself. Here, for example, the com¬ 
parative judgments which pertain to existence, (and even 
in others cases) are ulterior judgments, requiring two terms 
which again require a previous foundation in a single term, 
and consequently not comparative. Locke then, you per¬ 
ceive, here confounds the class of ulterior, comparative 
judgments, with that of the primitive, and not comparative 
judgments which he entirely neglects; and yet it is precisely 
the latter, which precede, ground, and give validity to the 
former. Comparative judgments presuppose judgments 
not comparative. Comparative judgments are abstract, and 
suppose real judgments; they teach us scarcely anything 
but what the others had already taught: they mark explicitly 
what the others had taught implicitly, but yet decisively; 
they are arbitrary, at least in the form; while the others 
are universal and necessary; they need the aid of language ; 
the others are, strictly speaking, above language, above all 
conventional signs, and suppose necessarily nothing but 
the understanding and its laws. Comparative judgments 
pertain to reflection and to artificial logic ; primitive and 
not comparative judgments constitute the natural and 
spontaneous logic of the human race. To confound these 
two classes of judgments, is to vitiate at once all psychology 
and all logic ; and yet such a confusion fills a large portion 
of the fourth book of the Essay on the Understanding. 

I shall now briefly take up the different fundamental 
noints to which this book is devoted, and you will see that, 
for the most part, we shall find continually this same error, 
the results of judgments confounded with the judgments 
themselves, applies directly to the seventh chapter concern¬ 
ing axioms. 

z 2 


256 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


If I made myself fully understood in my last lecture, it 
must be very evident that axioms, principles, general truths, 
are the product and expression of propositions, which are 
the expressions of primitive judgments. There are no 
axioms in the primary development of the understanding. 
There is an understanding which, when certain external or 
internal’conditions are fulfilled, by virtue of its own laws 
passes certain judgments, sometimes local and contingent, 
sometimes universal and necessary. These latter judgments, 
when we operate upon them by analysis and language, 
resolve themselves, like the others, into propositions; and 
these propositions being universal and necessary, like the 
judgments which they express, are what we call axioms. 
But it is clear that the form of the primitive judgments 
is one thing, and the form of these same judgments when re¬ 
duced to propositions and axioms, is another thing. At first, 
concrete, particular, and determinate, whatever be the uni¬ 
versality and necessity naturally and potentially in them, 
it is language and analysis that raise them to the abstract 
form which is the actual form of axioms. Thus, in the 
primitive action of the mind, a particular phenomenon 
being under the eye of consciousness, you instinctively 
referred it to a subject, that is yourself. But at present 
on the contrary, instead of abandoning the mind to its 
laws, you recall them to it, you submit it to the axiom : 
every phenomenon implies a subject to which it is referred; 
and so of the other axioms: all succession supposes time; 
every body supposes space; the finite supposes the infinite, 
etc. Do not fail to notice that these axioms have no force 
but what they borrow from the primitive judgments from 
which they are deduced. It is to primitive judgments we 
owe all real and fundamental knowledge, the knowledge 
of ourselves, of the world, of time, of space, and even, as 
I have shown in the last lecture, the knowledge of magni¬ 
tude and of unity. But in respect to axioms it is not so. 
You acquire no real knowledge, for instance, by the ap¬ 
plication of the axiom ; every effect supposes a cause. It 
is the philosopher, and not the man, that makes use of this 
axiom. The savage, the peasant, the uneducated, know 
nothing of it; but they all, as well as the philosopher, are 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


257 


provided with an understanding which makes them pass 
certain judgments, concrete, positive and determinate, and 
at the same time, necessary, and therefore universal, the 
result of which is, the knowledge of such or such a par¬ 
ticular cause. The judgments and their laws, I repeat, 
are what produce all knowledge; axioms are only the 
analytic expression of those judgments and laws, the ulti¬ 
mate elements of which they express under their most 
abstract form. Locke, however, instead of stopping within 
these limits, pretends that axioms are of no use; that they 
are not the principles of the sciences; and he demands 
somewhat contemptuously, to be shown a science founded 
upon axioms ; “it has been my ill luck,” says he, (§ 11,) 
“ never to meet with any such sciences; much less any 
one built upon these two maxims, what is , is: and it is 
impossible for the same thing to be , and not to be. And I 
would be glad to be shown where any such science, erected 
upon these or any other general axioms, is to be found; 
and should be obliged to any one who would lay before 
me the frame and system of any science so built on these 
or any such like maxims, that could not be shown to stand 
as firm without any consideration of them.”—Now, it is 
indeed true beyond all doubt, that axioms, in their actual 
form of axioms, never engendered any science : but it is 
no less true that, in their source and under their primitive 
form, that is, in the laws of the natural judgments from 
which they are deduced, they have served as the basis of all 
the sciences. Moreover, although in their actual form, 
they never have made and cannot make any science, and 
although they give no particular truth; yet it must be 
recognised that without them, no science, no truth general 
or particular, subsists. Endeavour to deny the axioms; to 
suppose, for instance, that there can be a quality without 
a subject, a body without space, succession without time, 
etc.; set yourselves to making abstractions of the axioms 
with which Locke has chosen to amuse himself, namely, 
what is , is ; and it is impossible for the same thing to be and 
not to be that is to say, make an abstraction of the idea 
of being, and of identity; and there is an end of all¬ 
science ; it can neither advance nor sustain itself, 
z 3 


258 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


Locke pretends also (eh. VII. § 9,) that the axioms are 
not the truths which we know first. True, again, without 
doubt, the axioms, under their actual form, are not primitive 
cognitions ; but, under their real form, as laws governing 
the exercise of the understanding, and implied in our judg¬ 
ments, they are so truly primitive, that without them no 
knowledge could be acquired. They are not indeed primitive 
as being the first truths which we know, but as those 
without which no others would be known. Here returns 
again the perpetual confusion in Locke of the historical 
and logical order of human knowledge. In the chronologi¬ 
cal order, we did not begin by knowing the axiom, the 
laws of our understanding; but, logically, without the 
axioms, no truth is admissible; without the operation, 
unnoticed, indeed, but real operation, of the laws of 
thought, no thought, no judgement is either legitimate or 
possible. 

At last, Locke combats the axioms by a celebrated 
argument, since his time frequently renewed, namely, that 
the axioms are nothing but frivolous propositions, because 
they are identical propositions (ch. VII. §11.) It is 
Locke, I believe, who introduced the expression, identical 
proposition, into the language of philosophy. It signifies 
a judgment, a proposition, wherein an idea is affirmed of 
itself ; wherein we affirm of a thing what was already 
known concerniug it. Elsewhere, (ch. VIII, of trifling 
Propositions ; §3 , of identical Propositions,) Locke shows 
that identical propositions are merely verbal propositions. 
■“ Let any one repeat as often as he pleases, that the will 

is the will; - a law is a law; and obligation is 

obligation ; right is right; wrong is wrong ; -what is 

this more than trifling with words?” “It is,” says he, 
“ but like a monkey shifting his oyster from one hand to the 
other; and had he words, might, no doubo, have said; 
oyster in right hand is subject, and oyster in left hand is 
predicate; and so might have made a self-evident proposi¬ 
tion of oyster, that is : oyster' is oyster .” Hence the 
•condemnation of the axiom: that which is, is, etc. But 
it is not exact, it is not fair, to concentrate all the axioms, 
«11 the principles, the primitive and necessaiy truths into 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


259 


the axiom: what is, is; the sa'me is the same; and to the 
trifling and ridiculous examples of Locke, I oppose, as 
examples, the following axioms, which have already been 
brought forward : the quality supposes a subject; succession 
supposes time ; body supposes space; the finite supposes the 
infinite; variety supposes unity ; phenomenon supposes sub¬ 
stance and being ; —in short, all the necessary truths which 
our foregoing discussion must have fixed in your minds. 
The question is, whether these are identical propositions. 
In order to show that they are, Locke must maintain that 
time is reducible to succession, or succession to time; space 
to body, or body to space ; the infinite to the finite or the 
finite to the infinite; phenomenon to being, or being to 
phenomenon, etc. Locke does, and by his system should, 
thus maintain. But it ought by this time to be sufficiently 
evident to you, that this position, and the system on which 
it rests, are alike destitute of truth. 

This proscription of axioms ; as identical, Locke extends 
to propositions, which are not axioms; and in general, he 
perceives very many more identical propositions than there 
are. For instance, gold is heavy, gold is fusible, are to 
Locke (ch. VIII. § 5 and 13,) identical. Nothing is 
further from the truth, however; we do not in these 
proposition affirm the same thing of the same. A proposi¬ 
tion is called identical, whenever the attribute is contained 
in the subject in such sort that the subject cannot be 
conceived as not containing it. Thus, when you say that 
body is solid, I say that you make an identical proposition, 
because I defy you to have the idea of body without having 
that of solidity. The idea of body is perhaps more exten¬ 
ded than that of solidity, but it is primarily and essentially 
the same. The idea of solidity being, then, for you the 
essential quality of body, to say that body is solid, is to 
say nothing else than that body is body. But when you 
say that gold is fusible, you affirm, of gold, a quality 
w r hich might, or might not belong to it. It involves a 
contradiction to say a body is not solid; but it involves 
no contradiction to suppose that gold might not be fusible. 
Gold might for a long time be known solely as a solid, as 
hard, yellow, etc.; if the experiment had not been made, 


260 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


it would not be known that it is fusible. When, then, 
you affirm of gold, that it is fusible, you recognize in it a 
quality which you may not have known before: certainly 
you do not affirm the same of the same, at least when you 
first make the assertion. At the present day, it is true, 
in the laboratory of modern chemistry, where the fusibility 
of gold is a quality universally recognized, to say that gold 
is fusible, is to repeat what is already known; it is to 
affirm of the word gold what is already comprised in the 
received signification. But, originally, the first one who 
affirmed that gold is fusible, far from making a tautology, 
expressed the result of discovery, and a discovery not 
without difficulty and importance. I may ask whether 
Locke in his time would have mocked at the proposition, 
that the atmosphere has weight, as an identical and frivo¬ 
lous proposition P Certainly not; and why P Because at 
that time, weight was a quality of the air which had hardly 
come to be demonstrated by the experiments of Pascal, and 
the still more complete experiments of Toricelli. The 
only difference, however, is that those who established the 
fusibility and weight of gold were earlier by some thousands 
of years; but at the bottom, if the gravity of the atmos¬ 
phere is not an identical proposition, neither, on the same 
ground, is the weight or the fusibility of gold; since the 
first who affirmed these qualities did not affirm in one term 
what had already been affirmed in the other. 

As to the rest, it is worth while to note the fate of 
identical truths. Locke saw a great many more than 
there are, and ridiculed them. The school of Locke has 
perceived still more of them; but far from condemning 
them on that score, it treats them with respect; it even 
goes so far as to lay down as the condition of every true 
proposition that it must be identical. Thus, by a strange 
progress, what Locke had branded with riducule, as frivo¬ 
lous, became in the hands of his successors a mark of 
legitimacy and truth. The identity ridiculed by Locke was 
nothing but a fictitious identity; and now, we see this pre¬ 
tended identity, so much scouted by him, and so unrea¬ 
sonably, because it is not real, celebrated in his school, with 
still less reason, as the triumph of truth and the last conquest 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


261 


of science and analysis. Now, if all true propositions are 
identical, as every identical proposition, whether according 
to Locke, it be frivolous, or according to his disciples, not, 
is, according to both, only a verbal proposition, if follows 
that the knowledge of all possible truths is only a verbal 
knowledge; and thus, when we think that we have learned 
science or systems of truth, we have really done nothing 
but translate one word into another; we only learn words, 
and a language. Hence the famous principle, that all 
science is only a language, dictionaries well or ill formed. 
Hence the reduction of the human mind to grammar. 

I pass now to other theories which remain to be ex¬ 
amined in the fourth book of the Essay. 

Ch. XVII. Of Reason —I have scarcely anything but 
praise to bestow upon this chapter. Locke there shows, (§ 
4,) what indeed was not then shown for the first time, but 
what at that period it was still necessary and useful to 
demonstrate, that the syllogism is not the principal instru¬ 
ment of reasoning. You have indeed seen * that the evi¬ 
dence of demonstration is not the only evidence; that there 
is, besides, the evidence of intuition, upon which Locke 
himself allows the evidence of demonstration to be founded; 
and, also, a third kind of evidence which Locke miscon¬ 
ceived, namely, the evidence of induction. Now, the 
syllogism is of no service in regard to the evidence of induc¬ 
tion ; for the syllogism proceeds from the general to the 
particular, while induction proceeds from the particular to 
the general. The syllogism, too, serves no purpose in 
regard to intuition, which is knowledge direct and without 
an intermediate. It is of no use, then, but in respect to 
demonstrative evidence; it is therefore neither the soul, nor 
the principal instniment of reasoning. But Locke does not 
stop here; he goes even so far (§ 6,) as to pretend that the 
syllogism adds nothing to our knowledge, and that it is 
only a means of disputing. I here recognize the language 
of a man who wrote near the end of the seventeenth cen¬ 
tury, and who was still in the movement of reaction, against 
the Scholastic philosophy. The Scholastic philosophy ad¬ 
mitted, as Locke did, the evidence of intuition and demon- 
* See Chapter VIII. 


262 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


stration; it forgot, in theory, like Locke, only the evidence 
of induction. But, in point of fact, being forbidden the 
examination of its principles, it scarcely employed any other 
evidence than the demonstrative; and consequently it used 
the syllogism as its principal or exclusive instrument. 
A reaction therefore against the Scholastic philosophy was 
necessary. But every reaction always goes too far. Hence 
the proscription of the syllogism was a blind and unjust 
proscription; for deductive knowledge is still real know¬ 
ledge. There are two things in the syllogism, the form 
and the substance. The substance is the real and special 
process by which the human mind goes from the general to 
the particular; and certainly it is a process, of which ac¬ 
count should be made, in a faithful and complete descrip¬ 
tion of the human mind. As to the form, so well described 
and so well developed by Aristotle, it is undoubtedly liable 
to abuse ; but still it has a very useful office. In general, 
all reasoning which cannot be put into this form, is vague 
reasoning, without strictness and without precision; while 
every true demonstration readily submits itself to this form. 
The syllogistic process, common to the ignorant as well as 
the learned, and inherent in the human mind itself, is an 
original principle, fruitful in knowledge and truths, since it 
is that which gives us all consequences. The syllogistic 
form, it is true, is often nothing but a test applied to a de¬ 
duction already drawn, but as a test, it is not without great 
value. It is not right to say that the syllogism lends itself 
as readily to the demonstration of the false as of the true ; 
for let any error whatever be taken in the order of deduc¬ 
tion, and I defy it to be put into a regular syllogism. The 
only remark which holds true, is that the human mind is 
not to be found entire in the syllogism, neither in the pro¬ 
cess which constitutes it, nor in the form which expresses it; 
because reason is not entire in reasoning, nor is all evi¬ 
dence reducible to that of demonstration. On the contrary, 
as Locke himself very clearly saw, the evidence 'of demon¬ 
stration would not exist, if there were not previously the 
evidence of intuition. So much for the limitations of 
Locke’s criticism of the syllogism. 

This chapter contains several passages (at § 7, and seq.) 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


263 


on the necessity of seeking for discoveries by some other 
instrument than the syllogism. But, unfortunately with 
more of promise than performance, these passages give no 
definite indication. In order to find this new instrument, 
Locke had nothing to do but to open Bacon’s Novum 
Organum , and Be Augmentis; and he would have there 
found, perfectly described, both intuition sensible and ra¬ 
tional, and induction. But we are compelled to suspect 
that he had very lit,tie acquaintance with Bacon, when we 
saw him darkly groping after, and unable to find, the new 
route opened a half century before, and already rendered so 
clear by his immortal countryman. 

One of the best chapters of Locke is that on Faith and 
Reason , (ch. XVIII.) You there recognise one of the inter¬ 
preters of the great moral and religious revolution, which at 
that period had taken place. Locke assigns the exact pro¬ 
vince of reason and of faith. He indicates their relative 
office and their distinct limits. He had already said, (ch. 
XVII. § 24,) the faith in general is so little contrary to 
reason, that it is nothing else than the assent of reason to 
itself: “ I think it may not be amiss to take notice, that 
however faith be opposed to reason, faith is nothing but a 
firm assent of the mind; which if it be regulated, as is our 
duty, cannot be afforded to anything but upon good reason, 
and so cannot be opposite to it.” 

And when he comes to treat of positive faith, that is, of 
revelation, in spite of his respect, or rather by reason of 
his profound respect for Christianity, even while admitting 
(ch. XVIII. § 7.) the celebrated distinction, and perhaps 
more specious than profound, between things according to 
reason, contrary to reason, and above reason, he declares 
that no revelation, whether immediate or traditional, can 
be admitted contrary to reason, and that the measure of 
the admissibility of every revelation, is in the proportion 
of its comprehensibility, that is its relation more or less 
intimate to the reason. I will adduce the words of 
Locke, § 5 : 

“ But yet nothing, I think, can, under the title, [of a 
revelation,] shake or overrule plain knowledge; or ratio¬ 
nally prevail with any man to admit it for true, in a direct 


264 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


contradiction to the clear evidence of his own understanding. 
For since no evidence of our faculties, by which we receive 
such revelations , can exceed, if equal, the certainty of our 
intuitive knowledge, we can never receive for a truth 
anything that is directly contrary to our clear and distinct 
knowledge; v. g. the ideas of one body, and one place, do 
so clearly agree, and the mind has so evideut a perception 
of their agreement, that we can never assent to a proposi¬ 
tion, that affirms the same body to be in two distant 
places at once, however it should pretend to the authority 
of a divine revelation : since the evidence, first, that we 
deceive not ourselves in ascribing it to God; secondly , 
that we understand it right; can never be so great as the 
evidence of our own intuitive knowledge, whereby we 
discern it impossible for the same body to be in two places at 
once. And therefore no proposition can be received for 
divine revelation, or obtain the assent due to all such, if 
it be contradictory to our clear intuitive knowledge. Be¬ 
cause this would be to subvert the principles and founda¬ 
tions of all knowledge, evidence and assent whatsoever; 
and there would be left no difference between truth and 
falsehood, no measures of credible and incredible in the 
world, if doubtful propositions shall take place before self- 
evident ; and what we certainly know, give way to what 
we may possibly be mistaken in. In propositions, there¬ 
fore, contrary to the clear perception of the agreement or disa¬ 
greement of any of our ideas, it will be in vain to urge them 
as matters of faith.”* 

* The following passage is from the Nouveaux Essais of Leibnitz. 
It is curious and interesting. “ I find something to remark on your 
[Locke’s] definition of that which is above reason, at least if you 
take the received usage of this word ; for it seems to me, that from 
the manner in which that definition is framed, it goes too far on 
one side.—I approve very strongly of your disposition to found faith 
in reason ; for without this, why should we prefer the Bible to the 
Koran, or to the sacred books of the Bramins? This is recognised 
by theologians and other learned men; and hence it is, that we have 
such excellent treatises on the truth of the Christian religion, and so 
many fine arguments put out against the pagans and other infidels, 
ancient and modern. Hence, also, enlightened men have always 
held as suspicious, those persons who have pretended that it is not 
necessary to put one’s self to the trouble of reasons and proofs, 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


265 


I am not equally satisfied with the next chapter On 
Enthusiasm. Locke, it seems to me, has not profoundly 

when the question is about believing; a thing impossible, in 
fact, unless believing signify reciting or repeating and then letting 
pass away, without troubling ourselves to understand, which many 
persons do, and which is also characteristic of some nations more 
than of others. This is why some Aristotelian philosophers of the 
15th and 16th centuries, wishing to maintain two contrary truths, 
the one philosophical, the other theological, were rightly opposed 
by the last Lateran council, under Leo X. A similar dispute 
formerly arose at Helmstadt, between Hoffman, the theologian, 
and Martin, the philosopher ; but with this difference, that the 
philosopher would conciliate philosophy with religion, while the 
theologian wished to reject the use of it. But the founder of the 
university, the Duke Julius, decided in favour of philosophy. It is 
fact, indeed, that in our times, a person of the highest eminence has 
declared, in respect to articles of faith, that it was necessary to shut 
the eyes in order to see clearly ; and Tertullian says somewhere, 
this is impossible, therefore it is true ; it is to be believed, for it is 
an absurdity. But if the intention of those who express themselves 
in this way, is good, the expressions themselves are extravagant, 
and may do hurt—*Faith is grounded on the motives to belief, and 
on the internal grace which determines the mind immediately. 
It must be allowed that there are many judgments more evident 
than those which depend on these grounds or motives of 
credibility. Some are further advanced in a knowledge of 
them than others, and there are many persons even, who have 
never known, and still less weighed, and consequently have not any 
thing that can be called the [external] ground, or evidence of their 
faith. But the internal grace of the Holy Spirit supplies it immedi¬ 
ately. It is true that God never gives it, but where the faith which 
it produces is in something that is really grounded in reason, other¬ 
wise he would destroy the means of knowledge ; but it is not 
necessary that all those who have this divine faith should know 
those reasons or evidences, and still less that they should have them 
always before their eyes ; for in such a case, feeble minded persons 
and idiots could never have true faith, and the most enlightened 
would not have it when they might stand most in need of it, for they 
could not always recollect the reasons for believing.—The question 
of the use of reason in theology has been greatly agitated, as much 
between the Socinians and the Catholics, as between the Reformed 
and the Lutherans.—We may say that the Socinians go too far ip 
rejecting everything that is not conformed to the order of nature, 
even when they cannot prove its impossibility ; but their adversaries 
go too far in sometimes urging mysteries to the borders of contra¬ 
diction, by which they injure the truth they wish to defend.—How 
can faith establish anything that overthrows a principle, without 
which all belief, affirmation, or denial, would be vain ? But it seems 

2 A 


266 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


apprehended his subject; he has made a satire rather than 
given an impartial description of enthusiasm. 

What in fact is enthusiasm according to Locke ? It 
is : 1, the pretension of referring to a positive, privileged, 
and personal revelation, to a divine illumination made in 
our particular favour, our own peculiar sentiments, which 
often are nothing but extravagancies: 2, the pretension 
still more absurd, of imposing upon others these imagina¬ 
tions, as superior orders clothed with divine authority. (See 
§ 5 and 6.) These are indeed the follies of enthusiasm. 
But is enthusiasm nothing but this ? I do not believe it. 

Locke has elsewhere perfectly seen that the evidence of 
demonstration is founded upon that of intuition. He has 
even said that of these two kinds of evidence, the evidence 
of intuition is not only anterior to the other, but is supe¬ 
rior to it, and is the highest degree of knowledge, (ch. XYII. 
§ 14,) It is even curious to see Locke express himself on 
this point with as much strength as could a philosopher of 
a totally opposite school. “ Intuitive knowledge is cer¬ 
tain, beyond all doubt, and needs no probation, nor can 
have any, this being the highest of all human certainty. 
In this consists the evidence of all those maxims, which 
nobody has any doubt about, but every man (does not, 
as is said, only assent to, but) knows to be true as soon 
as ever they are proposed to his understanding. In the 
discovery of and assent to these truths, there is no use of 

to me there still remains a question, which the authors of whom I 
speak have not sufficiently examined. It is this : Suppose that on 
the one hand we have the literal sense of a passage of Scripture, and. 
on the other a great appearance of logical impossibility, or, at least, 
of acknowledged physical impossibility ; is it more reasonable to 
hold to the literal sense, or to the philosophical principle ? It is 
certain that there are passages in which we have no hesitation in 
departing from the literal sense, as when, etc.—It is here that the 
rules of interpretation come in.—The two authors of whom I speak, 
(Musaeus and Videlius,) still dispute concerning the attempt of 
Kekerman to demonstrate the Trinity by reason, as Raymond Lully 
had attempted before. Rut Musaeus acknowledges with {great fair¬ 
ness, that if the demonstration of the reformed author had been 
good and sound, be should have had nothing to say ; and that the 
author would have been right in maintaining that the light of the 
Holy Spirit could be increased by philosophy.” 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 267 

the discursive faculty, no need of reasoning, but they are 
known by a superior and higher degree of evidence; and 
such, if I may guess at things unknown, I am apt to think 
that angels have now, and the spirits of just men made 
perfect shall have in a futute state, of thousands of things, 
which now either wholly escape our apprehensions, or which, 
our short-sighted reason having got some faint glimpse of, 
we, in the dark, grope after.” I accept this statement, let 
it be consistent or not with the general system of Locke. 
I hold likewise that the highest degree of knowledge is 
intuitive knowledge. This knowledge, in many cases, for 
example in regard to time, space, personal identity, the 
infinite, all substantial existences, as also, the good and 
the beautiful, has, you know, this peculiarity, that it is not 
grounded upon the senses nor upon the consciousness, but 
upon the reason, which, without the intervention of any 
reasoning, attains its objects and conceives them with 
certainty. Now, it is an attribute inherent in the reason 
to believe in itself; and from hence comes faith. If, 
then, intuitive reason is above inductive and demonstra¬ 
tive reason, the faith of reason in itself in intuition, is purer 
and more elevated than in induction and demonstration. 
Recollect likewise that the truths intuitively discovered 
by reason are not arbitrary, but necessary; that they are 
not relative, but absolute. The authority of reason is 
absolute; it is then a characteristic of the faith attached 
to reason like reason absolute. These are the admirable 
characteristics of reason, and of the faith of reason in itself. 

This is not all. When we come to interrogate reason, 
about itself, to inquire into its own principle, and the source 
of that absolute authority which characterizes it, we are 
forced to recognize that this reason is not ours, not consti¬ 
tuted by us. It is not in our power ; it is not in the power 
of our will to cause the reason to give us such or such a 
truth, or not to give us them. Independent of our will, 
reason intervenes, and, when certain conditions are fulfilled 
gives us, I might say imposes upon us, these truths. The 
reason makes its appearance in us, though it is not our¬ 
selves, and in no way, can it be confounded with our perso¬ 
nality. Reason is impersonal. Whence then comes this 
2 a 2 


268 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


wonderful guest within us, and what is the principle of 
this reason which enlightens us, without belonging to us P 
This principle is God, the first and the last principle of 
everything. Now when the faith of reason in itself is at¬ 
tached to its principle, when it knows that it comes from 
God, it increases not merely in degree, but in nature, by 
as much, so to say, as the eternal substance is superior to 
the finite substance in which it makes its appearance. Thus 
comes a redoubled faith in the truths revealed by the su¬ 
preme reason in the shadows of time, and in the limitations 
of our weakness.* 

See, then, reason become, to its own eyes divine, in its 
principle. Now this mode or state of reason which hears 
itself and takes itself as the echo of God on the earth, with 
the particular and extraordinary characteristics connected 
with it, is what is called Enthusiasm. The word suffici¬ 
ently explains the thing: enthusiasm [©eos ev faxiv ] is 
the spirit of God within us; it is immediate intuition, op¬ 
posed to induction and demonstration ; it is the primitive 
spontaneity opposed to the ulterior development of reflection, 
it is the apperception of the highest truths by reason in its 

* See Introduction to the History of Philosophy [translated by 
Linberg] Lect. 6.—On this subject Fenelon has the following ex¬ 
quisite passage : Existence of God, Part I. ch. IV. Of Human Reason. 
“In truth, my reason is in myself, for it is necessary that I should 
continually turn inward upon myself in order to find it; but the 
higher reason, which corrects me when I need it, and which I con¬ 
sult, is not my own, it does not make a part of myself. Thus, that 
which might seem the most our own, and to be the very foundation 
of our being, I mean our reason, is that which least belongs to us, 
which we are to believe the most borrowed. We receive continually 
and at every moment, a reason superior to ourselves just as we con¬ 
tinually breathe an air which is not of ourselves ; or, as we constantly 
see the objects around us by the light of the sun, whose rays do not 
belong to our eyes.—There is an internal school, where man 
receives what he can neither acquire himself, nor learn from other 
men who live by alms like himself. Where is this perfect 
reason which is so near me, and yet so distinct and different from 
me? Where is this Supreme reason 1 Is it not God himself, the 
being for whom 1 am inquiring ? This is beautiful. See also 
Bossuet, Introduction to Philosophy , ch. IV. §§ 5—9; and the 
whole system of Malebranche, [whose “ Vision in God” comes to 
the same thing.] 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


269 


greatest independence both of the senses and of our per¬ 
sonality. Enthusiasm in its highest degree, in its crisis, 
so to say, belongs only to particular individuals, and to them 
only in particular circumstances; but in its lowest degree, 
enthusiasm is as much a fact as anything else, a fact suf¬ 
ficiently common, pertaining to any particular theory or 
individual, or epoch, but to human nature, in all men, in all 
conditions, and almost at every hour. It is enthusiasm 
which produces spontaneous convictions and resolutions, 
in little as in great, in the hero and in the feeblest woman. 
Enthusiasm is the poetic spirit in everything; and the 
poetic spirit , thanks to God, does not belong exclusively to 
poets. It has been given to all men in some degree more 
or less pure, more or less elevated; it appears above all in 
particular men, and in particular moments of the life of 
such men, who are the poets by eminence. It is enthusiasm 
likewise which produces religions, for every religion supposes 
two things : 1, that the truths which it proclaims are absolute 
truths; 2, that it proclaims them in the name of God him¬ 
self who reveals them to it. 

Thus far all is well: we are still within the conditions of 
humanity and of reason ; for it is reason which is the founda¬ 
tion of faith and of enthusiasm, of heroism, of poetry and of 
religion. And when the poets, when the priests repel reason 
in the name and behalf of enthusiasm and faith, they do 
nothing else, whether they are aware or ignorant of it, (and 
it is the affair neither of poets, nor of priests, to know 
what they do,) they do nothing else, I say, than put one 
mode of reason above other modes of the same reason; for, 
if immediate intuition is above ratiocination, yet it none 
the less pertains to reason. Enthusiasm is then a rational 
fact, which has its place in the order of natural facts, and 
in the history of the human mind; only this fact, is ex¬ 
tremely delicate, and enthusiasm may easily turn into folly. 
We are here upon the doubtful border between reason and 
extravagance. See the universal principle, the necessary 
and legitimate principle of religious philosophy, of religions 
and mysticism, a principle which must not be confounded 
with the mistakes and delusions by which it may be cor¬ 
rupted. Thus disengaged and set in a clear light by 
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270 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


analysis, philosophy ought to recognise it, if it wishes to 
recognise all the essential facts, all the elements of reason 
and of humanity. 

See now how error begins. Enthusiasm is, I repeat, 
that spontaneous intuition of truth by reason, as indepen¬ 
dent as possible of the personality and of the senses, of 
induction and of demonstration, a state which has been 
found true, legitimate, and founded upon the nature of 
human reason. But sometimes it happens that the senses 
and the personality which inspiration ought to surmount 
and reduce to silence, introduce themselves into the inspi¬ 
ration itself and mingle with it material, arbitrary, false and 
ridiculous details. It happens likewise, that those who 
share, in a superior degree, this revelation of God which is 
made in some measure to all men, imagine it to be peculiar 
to themselves, and denied to others, not only in this degree, 
but totally and absolutely. They set up in their minds, a 
sort of privilege of inspiration; and as in inspiration we 
feel the duty of submitting ourselves to the truths which 
inspiration reveals, and the sacred mission of proclaiming 
and spreading them, we frequently go to the extent of sup¬ 
posing that it is also a duty for us, while submitting our¬ 
selves to these truths, to subject others likewise to them, 
and to impose them upon others, not in virtue of our own 
power and personal illumination, but in virtue of the superior 
power from which all inspiration emanates. 

On our knees ourselves, before the principle of our 
enthusiasm and our faith, we wish also to make others bend 
their knees to the same principle, to make them adore and 
serve what we adore and serve. Erom hence religious 
authority; and then very soon tyranny. Men begin by 
believing in special revelations made in their favour; they 
end by regarding themselves as delegates of God and Provi¬ 
dence, commissioned not only to enlighten and save teach¬ 
able souls, but to enlighten and save, spite of themselves, 
those who resist the truth and God. The folly of enthusi¬ 
asm conducts very rapidly to the tyranny of enthusiasm. 

But the folly and the tyranny, which, I grant, sometimes 
spring from the principle of inspiration, because we are 
feeble, and consequently exclusive, and therefore intolerant, 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


271 


are essentially distinct from the principle. We can and we 
ought to absolve and even to do honour to the principle, 
while at the same time we condemn the errors connected 
with it. But instead of this, Locke confounds the abuse 
of the principle, that is to say, extravagant enthusiasm, 
peculiar to some men, with the true enthusiasm which has 
been given in some degree to all men. In enthusiasm 
throughout he sees nothing but a disordered movement of 
the imagination ; and everywhere he sets himself to putting 
up barriers to all passing beyond the circle of authentic 
and properly interpreted passages of the Holy Scriptures. 
I approve his prudence; I allow it at all times: and I 
think still more of it when I recollect the extravagances of 
sectarian enthusiasm about the times of Locke, and the 
sad spectacle presented to his eyes. But prudence should 
never degenerate into injustice. What should the Sensual 
school say, if, from prudence likewise, idealism should wish 
to suppress the senses on account of the excesses to which 
the senses may and often do conduct, or reasoning, on 
account of the sophisms which it engenders ? We must be 
wise within bounds, sobrie sapere ; we must be wise within 
the limitations and conditions of humanity and nature; 
and Locke was wrong in regarding enthusiasm so much less 
in itself, then in its consequences, and even in its foolish 
and pernicious consequences. 

Next follows ch. XX. On the causes of Error . Nearly 
all those signalized by Locke had been recognised before 
him. They are : 1 , want of proofs ; 2, want of ability to 
use them; 3, want of will to use them ; 4, wrong measures 
of probability which are reduced by Locke to the four fol¬ 
lowing: 1, propositions that are not in themselves certain 
and evident, but doubtful and false, taken up for prin¬ 
ciples ; 2, received hypotheses ; 3, predominant passions 
or inclinations ; 4, authority. This whole chapter may be 
read with profit; but I shall dwell only upon the last section 
(the 18 th,) entitled; “Men not in so many errors as is 
imagined I avow that I was singularly pleased, from the 
optimism which you know I cherish, with the title of this 
paragraph. I hoped to find in the good and wise Locke 
these two propositions which are so dear to me ; first that 


272 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


men do not so much believe in error as in truth; and second¬ 
ly, that there is no error in which there is not some share, 
however small, of truth. So far from this, however, I 
perceive that Locke in respect to error, makes an apology 
for human nature that is but little creditable to it. If men 
are not the fools which they appear to be, it is, according to 
Locke, because they really have no faith at all in the foolish 
opinions with which they have the air of being so per¬ 
suaded ; but follow them merely from habit, excitement, 
interest. “ They are resolved to stick to a party, that 
education or interest has engaged them in; and there, like 
the common soldiers of an army, show their courage and 
warmth as their leaders direct, without ever so much as 

examining or knowing the cause they contend for.-It 

is enough for a man to obey his leaders, to have his hand 
and his tongue ready for the support of the common cause, 
and thereby approve himself to those who can give him 
credit, preferment, or protection in that society.” Let it 
be so in regard to some men; but is this true of all P 
Here, again, Locke suffered himself to be disturbed by the 
spectacles presented by his own times ; when, amidst so 
many follies, there might very likely be some dissembled ; 
but all were not so, and could not be. I allow that in times 
of agitation and revolution, ambition frequently takes the 
standard of extravagancies which it despises, in order to 
lead the crowd; but it is not right to calumniate ambition. 
Everything is entire in humanity; and a man may be at the 
same time both very ambitious and very sincere. Crom¬ 
well, for instance, was, in my opinion, a sincere puritan 
even to fanaticism; and likewise greedy of power to a 
degree that made him a hypocrite in order to gain it; yet 
still his hypocrisy is more obscure and more doubtful than 
his fanaticism. Probably it only led him to exaggerate the 
opinions which were really in his heart, and to caress and 
excite the passions, which he himself shared. His tyranny 
is not a proof that his republican ardour was assumed. 
There are times when the popular cause needs a master to 
govern and represent it; and when the good sense w T hich. 
perceives this necessity, or the genius which feels its own 
strength, easily impels an ardent mind to arbitrary power, 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


273 


without implying excessive egotism. Pericles, Caesar, 
Cromwell, and another still, might very sincerely have loved 
equality in the midst of a dictatorship. There is perhaps 
now in the world a man, whose ambition is the last hope of 
the country which he has twice saved, and which alone he 
can save again by applying a firm hand. But let us leave 
great men, who, to expiate their superiority and their glory, 
are often condemned not to be comprehended; let us leave 
the chiefs, and come to the multitude. Here the explana¬ 
tion of Locke fails. We can, indeed, explain to a certain 
extent the foolish opinions of some men by the interest 
they have in simulating those of the mass upon whom they 
wish to support themselves; but it is implied that the mass 
of men hold false opinions by imposture ; for apparently 
they would not be willing to deceive themselves. But no; 
this is not the way to justify the errors of humanity. Their 
true apology is that which I have so many times given, and 
which I shall never cease to repeat: that there is no total 
error in an intelligent and rational being. Men, indi¬ 
viduals and nations, men of genius and ordinary men, un¬ 
questionably give in to many errors, and attach themselves 
to them; but not to that which makes them errors, but to 
the part of truth which is in them. Examine to the bottom 
all the celebrated errors, political, religious, philosophical; 
there is not one which has not a considerable portion of 
truth in it; and it is to this it owes its reception in the 
minds of the great men, who introduced it upon the scene 
of the world, and in the minds of the multitude, who have 
followed the great men. It is the truth joined to the error, 
which gives to the error all its force, which gives it birth, 
sustains it, spreads it, explains and excuses it. Errors gain 
success and footing in the world, no otherwise than by 
carrying along with them, and offering, as it were, for their 
ransom, so much of truth, as, piercing through the mists 
which envelope it, enlighten and carry forward the human 
race. I approve entirely, then, the title of Locke’s para¬ 
graph ; but I reject his development of it.* 

* I am happy to confirm an opinion so dear to me by the great¬ 
est authority that I can recognise among the moderns, that of 


274 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


The ticenty first Chapter contains a division of the sciences 
into physics, practics, and logic or grammar. By physics, 
Locke understands the nature of things, not only of bodies, 
but of spirits. God and the soul; it is the ancient physics 
and the modern ontology. I have nothing to say of this 
division but that it is very ancient,* obviously arbitrary 
and superficial, and very much inferior to the celebrated 
division of Bacon, reproduced by D’Alembert. I find it 
indeed very difficult to believe that the author of this divi¬ 
sion could have known this division of Bacon. I see rather, 
in this, as also in the third book concerning signs and 
language, marks of the reading and recollection of Hobbes. 

We have at length come to the end of this long analysis 
of the fourth book of the Essay of Locke. I have followed, 
step by step, all the important propositions contained in it, 
as I have done in regard to the preceding books. I should 
not, however, give a complete view of the Essay on the 
Human Understanding, if I should stop without exhibiting 
some theories of great importance, which are not thrown 
in episodically in the work of Locke, but pertain closely to 
the general spirit of his system, and have acquired in the 
Sensual school an immense authority. It has appeared to 
me proper to reserve these theories for a special examina¬ 
tion. 


Leibnitz. The following is his reply on this point to Locke : ‘the 
justice you would do to the human race does not turn to its credit; 
for men would be much more excusable in following their opinions 
sincerely, than in counterfeiting them from motives of interest. 
Perhaps however there is more sincerity in point of fact than you 
seem to accord; for without any knowledge of the cause, they may 
come to exercise an implicit faith by submitting themselves generally 
and sometimes blindly, but always in good faith, to the judgment of 
others whose authority they have once recognised. It is true that 
the advantage they may find in it may contribute something to 
producing this submission ; but this may not prevent their opinions 
being heartily entertained.’ 

* See Cours de Philosophic for 1829, Vol. I. Lect. 8. [The 
reference is to a survey of Grecian philosophy, from the time of 
Plato and Aristotle to the Alexandrine School.—T r.] 


CRITICAL EXAMINATION 

OF 

LOCKE’S ESSAY 

ON 

THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING. 


CHAPTER TENTH. 




CONTENTS OF CHAPTER X. 


Examination of three important Theories found in the Essay on 
the Human Understanding: 1. Theory of Freedom ; which inclines 
to Fatalism. 2 Theory of the nature of the Soul; which inclines to 
Materialism. 3. Theory of the Existence of God, which rests itself 
almost exclusively upon external proofs, drawn from the sensible 
world.—Recapitulation of the whole examination of the Essay of 
Locke; the Merits and the Faults which have been pointed out.— 
Of the spirit which has governed this Examination.—Conclusion. 


CHAPTER X. 


The theories which I wish to discuss, are those con¬ 
cerning Liberty, the Soul, and God. I wish to explain 
these three theories in the order in which they occur in 
the Essay on the Understanding. 

In order to enable you to comprehend the true character 
of Locke’s theory of Liberty, some preliminary explana¬ 
tions are indispensable. 

All the facts which can fall under the consciousness of 
man, and consequently under the reflection of the philoso¬ 
pher, resolve themselves into three foundamental facts, 
which contain all the others; three facts which, beyond 
doubt, are never, in reality, solitary and separate from each 
other : but which are not the less essentially distinct; and 
which a careful analysis ought to distinguish, without di¬ 
viding, in the complex phenomenon of intellectual life. 
These three facts are expressed in the words : to feel , to 
think , to act. 

I open a book and read; let us decompose this fact, 
and we shall find in it three elements. 

Suppose I do not see the letters of which each page is 
composed, nor the form and order of the letters; it is ob¬ 
vious I shall not comprehend the meaning which usage 
has attached to those letters, and so I shall not read. To 
see, then, is the condition of reading. But, on the other 
hand, to see is still not to read; for, the letters being 
seen, nothing would be done if the intellect was not su- 
peradded to the sense of sight, in order to comprehend the 
signification of the letters placed before my eyes. 

Here, then, are two facts, which the most superficial 

2 B 


278 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


analysis immediately discerns in the fact of reading. Let 
us recognise the characteristics of these two facts. 

Am I the cause of the vision, and in general terms, of 
sensation ? Am I conscious of being the cause of this 
phenomenon; of commencing, continuing, interrupting, 
increasing, diminishing, maintaining and terminating it, 
at my pleasure ? I will refer to other examples more 
striking. Suppose I press upon a sharp cutting instru¬ 
ment ; a painful sensation ensues. I put a rose to my 
nose; and an agreeable sensation is the result. Is it I 
who produce these two phenomena P Can I make them 
cease ? Does the pain or pleasure come or go at my wish ? 
No : I am subject to the pleasure as well as to the pain; 
both come, continue, and depart, without regard to my will. 
In a word, sensation is a phenomenon, marked in the eye 
of my consciousness, with the characteristic of necessity. 

Let us now examine the character of the other fact, which 
sensation indeed precedes, but does not constitute. When 
the sensation is accomplished, the intelligence connects it¬ 
self with the sensation; and first it pronounces that the 
sensation has a cause, the cutting instrument, the rose, 
and, to return to our first example, the letters placed be¬ 
fore the eyes; this is the first judgment passed by the in¬ 
tellect. Further : as soon as the sensation is referred by 
the intellect to an external cause, namely, to the letters and 
the words which they form, this same intellect conceives 
the meaning of those letters and words, and judges of the 
truth or falseness of the proposition formed by them. The 
intellect, then, judges that the sensation has a cause; but 
I wish to ask, if it could judge the contrary ? No: the 
intellect can no more judge that this is without a cause, 
than it can judge that it was possible there might or might 
not be the sensation, when the cutting instrument was in 
the wound, the rose at the organ of smelling, or the book 
before the eyes. And not only does the intellect of necessity 
judge that the sensation has a cause, but it also of necessity 
judges that the propositions contained in the lines perceived 
by the eye are true or false; for instance, that two andtwo 
make four,and not five, etc. This is undeniable. I ask again if 
it is in the power of the intellect, to judge at pleasure, con- 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


279 


cerning any particular action of which the book speaks, that 
it is good or bad ; or concerning any particular form which 
the book describes, that it is beautiful or ugly? By no means. 
Undoubtedly different intellects, or the same intellect at 
different periods of its exercise, may sometimes pass different 
judgments in regard to the same thing. Sometimes it 
may be deceived; it will judge that which is false to be 
true, the good to be bad, the beautiful to be ugly, and the 
reverse; but, at the moment when it judges that a propo¬ 
sition is true or false, an action good or bad, a form beautiful 
or ugly, at that moment, it is not in the power of the intellect 
to pass any other judgment than that it passes. It obeys 
laws which it did not make. It yields to motives which 
determine it independently of the will. In a word, the 
phenomenon of intelligence, comprehending, judging, know¬ 
ing, thinking, whatever name be given to it, is marked 
with the same characteristic of necessity as the phenomenon 
of sensibility. If then the sensibility and the intellect are 
under the dominion of necessity, it is not in them, assuredly, 
that we are to seek for liberty. 

Where, then, are we to seek for it ? It remains only to 
look for it in the third fact blended with the two others, 
and which we have not yet analyzed. It must be found 
there, or it is to be found nowhere; and liberty is a 
chimera. 

To see and feel, to apprehend and judge, do not exhaust 
the complex fact submitted to our analysis. If I do not 
look at or regard the letters of this book, shall I see them, 
or at least shall I see them distinctly? If, seeing the 
letters, I do not give my attention to them, shall I compre¬ 
hend them ? If instead of holding the book open. I shut 
it, will the perception of the words and the understanding 
of their meaning, take place, and the complex fact of read¬ 
ing be accomplished ? Certainly not. Now what is it, 
to open this book, to look, to give attention ? It is neither 
to feel nor to comprehend ; for to look is not to perceive, 
if the organ of vision is wanting, or is untrue; to give at¬ 
tention, is still not to comprehend; it is an indispensable 
condition of comprehending, but not always a sufficient 


280 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


reason; it is not enough to be attentive to the statement 
of a problem, in order to solve it; in a word, as has been 
said by one of my honoured colleagues, whom you no longer 
have the pleasure of hearing but whom you can always 
read,—attention no more includes the understanding, than 
it is included in the sensibility. To be attentive is to 
act, it is to make a movement, internal or external, a 
new phenomenon, which it is impossible to confound with 
the two first, although it is perpetually blended with them, 
and along with them makes up the total and complete fact 
which we were to analyze and explain. 

Let us examine the character of this third fact, the phe¬ 
nomenon of activity.' Let us first distinguish the different 
sorts of action. There are actions, sometimes so called, 
which a man does not refer to himself, although he may be 
the theatre on which they are displayed. Others may tell 
us that we performed these actions; but ourselves, we know 
nothing of them; they are done in us, but we do them 
not. In lethargy, in sleep, in delirium we execute a mul¬ 
titude of motions which resemble actions, which are actions 
even, if you please, but which present the following cha¬ 
racteristics : 

We have no consciousness of them at the time when we 
appear to be performing them; 

We have no recollection of having performed them; 

Consequently we do not refer them to ourselves, neither 
while we were performing them, nor afterwards ; 

Consequently, again, they do not belong to us, and we 
do not impute them to ourselves, any more than to our 
neighbour, or to an inhabitant of another world. 

But are there not other actions besides such ? I open 
this book; I look at the letters; I give my attention to 
them; these are certainly actions; do they resemble the 
preceding P I open this book; am I conscious of doing it ? 
Yes. 

This action being done, do I remember it ? Yes. 

Do I refer this action to myself as having done it ? 
Yes. 

Am I convinced that it belongs to me ? Could I impute 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


281 


it to such or such another person, as well as to myself, or 
am I myself solely and exclusively responsible in my own 
eyes ? Here likewise I answer yes to myself. 

And in fine, at the moment when I do this action, along 
with the consciousness of doing it, am I not conscious like¬ 
wise of power not to do it ? When I open this book, am 
I not conscious of opening it, and conscious also of power 
not to open it ? When I look, do I not know at once that 
I look, and that I am able not to look P When I give my 
attention, do I not Know that I give it, and that I am able 
also not to give it ? Is not this a fact which each of us 
can repeat, as many times as he pleases, in himself, and on 
a thousand occasions ? Is it not an undeniable experiment ? 
And is it not also, the universal belief of the human race ? 
—Let us, then, generalize, and say, that there are motions 
and actions which we perform with the two-f'old conscious¬ 
ness of doing them, and of being able not to do them. 

Now, an action performed with the consciousness of 
power not to do it, is what men have called a free action; 
for there is no longer in it the characteristic of necessity. 
In the phenomenon of sensation, I could not help feeling 
it, when the agreeable sensation fell under my conscious¬ 
ness ; I could not but suffer, when the pain was present; 
I was conscious of feeling it, with the consciousness of not 
being able not to feel it. In the phenomenon of intelli¬ 
gence, I could not help judging that two and two make 
four; I am conscious of thinking this or that, with the 
consciousness of not being able not to think it. In certain 
motions, likewise, I am so little conscious of power not to 
make them, that I make them without any consciousness 
of doing so, even at the very moment I am making them. 
But in a great number of cases, I perform certain actions 
with the consciousness of doing them, and of being able 
not to do them, of ability to suspend or to continue them, 
to complete or cut them short. This is a class of facts of 
undoubted reality; they are, I believe, very numerous; 
but if there were but a single one, sui generis , it would be 
enough to establish in man a power, that of liberty. Liberty, 
then, is the attribute, neither of the sensibility nor of the 
intelligence; it belongs to the activity, and not to all the 

2 B 3 


282 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


facts which are referable to that, but merely to a certain 
number, marked by peculiar characteristics, namely, acts 
which we perform with the consciousness of doing them, 
and of being able not to do them. 

After having stated a free act, it is important to analyze 
it more attentively. 

A free act is a phenomenon which includes many different 
elements blended together. To act freely, is to do an act 
with the consciousness of being able not to do it; now, 
to do an act with the consciousness of being able not 
to do it, supposes that one prefers doing it to not doing 
it; to commence an action, with ability not to have com¬ 
menced it, is to have preferred to commence it; and so 
of continuing or suspending, completing or breaking off 
the action. Now, to prefer, supposes that we have motives 
of preference, motives to perform the action, and motives 
not to perform it; that we know these motives; and that 
we prefer the one to the other; in a word, preference sup¬ 
poses the knowledge of motives for, and against. What 
these motives are, whether passions or ideas, errors or 
truths, this or that, is of little moment; what is impor¬ 
tant, is to know what is the faculty here in operation, that 
is to say, what the faculty is which knows these motives, 
which prefers one to the other, which judges that the 
one is preferable to the other, for that is the meaning 
of the word prefer. Now, what is it that knows, and 
judges, but the intellect? The intellect, then, is the 
faculty which prefers. But to prefer one motive to 
another, to judge that the one is preferable to the other, it 
is not enough to know the different motives, it is necessary 
likewise to have compared and weighed them; it is neces¬ 
sary to have deliberated on them in order to conclude ; in 
fact to prefer, is to judge definitively, to conclude. What 
is it then to deliberate ? It is nothing else than to examine 
with doubt, to appreciate the relative value of those diffe¬ 
rent motives which present themselves, but not at first with 
that evidence which decides the judgment, the preference. 
Now what is that which examines, doubts, and finally 
decides ? Evidently the intellect, which subsequently, 
after having passed many provisional judgments, will abro- 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


283 


gate them all, in order to pass its final judgment, will 
conclude and prefer after having deliberated. It is in the 
intellect, that the phenomenon of preference, and the 
other phenomena included in it, take place. Thus far 
then we are still within the sphere of the intelligence, and 
not in that of action. The intellect, to be sure, has its con¬ 
ditions ; no one examines who does not wish to examine, 
and the will intervenes in deliberation ; but it is simply as 
a condition, and not as the ground of the phenomenon; 
for, although it is true, that without the faculty of willing, 
all examination and deliberation would be impossible, it is 
also true, that the faculty which examines and deliberates, 
the faculty whose proper office is examination, deliberation, 
and all judgment, whether preliminary or decisive, is the 
intellect. Deliberation, and conclusion or preference, are, 
then, facts purely intellectual. Let us pursue our analysis. 

We have conceived the different motives for doing or not 
doing an action; we have deliberated on these motives, and 
we have preferred the one to the other ; we have concluded 
that we should do it, rather than not do it; but to con¬ 
clude that it ought to be done, and to do it, are not the 
same thing. When the intellect has judged that this or 
that is to be done, from such or such motives, it remains 
to pass on to action, and at once to resolve, to take sides, 
to say to ourselves no longer: I ought to do, but: I will 
to do. Now the faculty, which says : I ought to do it, is 
not and cannot be the faculty which says; I will to do it, 
I take the resolution to do it. Here the action of the in¬ 
telligence completely ceases. I ought to do it, is a judg¬ 
ment ; I will to do it, is not a judgment, nor consequently 
an intellectual phenomenon. In fact, the moment we 
take the resolution to do an action, we take it with 
a consciousness of being able to take a contrary re¬ 
solution. See, then, a new element, which must not be 
confounded with the former. This element is the will; 
one moment before we were in a state of judging and 
knowing; now we are in a state of willing. I say will¬ 
ing, and not doing; for, as to judge that a thing should 
be done, is not to will to do it, so likewise to will to do it, 
is yet not to do it. To will is an act and not a judgment; 


284 


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but it is an act altogether internal. It is evident that 
this act is not an action properly so called; in order 
to arrive at action, it is necessary to pass from the internal 
sphere of the will, to the sphere of the external world, 
wherein the action is definitively accomplished which you 
first conceived, deliberated on and preferred, and then 
willed that it should be executed. If there were no 
external world, there would be no completed action; 
and not only is it necessary that there should be 
an external world, but also that the power of willing should 
be connected with another power, a physical power which 
serves as an instrument, and by which it can attain the 
external world. Suppose that the will was not united with 
an organization, there would no longer be any bridge 
between the will and the external world; and no external 
action would be possible. The physical power, necessary 
to action, is the organization; it is admitted that the 
muscular system is the special instrument of the will. Take 
away the muscular system, and there is no more effort 
possible, consequently no more locomotion and movement 
possible, and therefore no more external action possible. 
Thus, to resume what has been said, the total action, which 
we were to analyze, resolves itself into three elements perfect¬ 
ly distinct; 1, the intellectual element, which is composed 
of the knowledge of the motives for and against, of delibe¬ 
ration, of preference, of choice; 2, the voluntary element, 
which consists in an internal act, namely the resolution, the 
determination to do it; 3, the physical element, or external 
action. 

If these three elements exhaust the action, that is to say, 
the phenomenon in which we have recognized the character 
of liberty in opposition to the phenomena of intelligence 
and sensation,—the question now to be decided is, precisely 
in which of these three elements liberty is to be found, 
that is, the power of doing, with the consciousness of being 
able not to do. Does this power of doing, while conscious 
of the power not to do, belong to the first element, the 
intellectual element of the free action P It does not; for 
it is not at the will of a man to judge that such or such a 
motive is preferable to another; we are not master of our 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


285 


preferences, we judge in this respect according to our intel¬ 
lectual nature, which has its necessary laws without having 
the consciousness of being able to judge otherwise, and 
even with the consciousness of not being able to judge 
otherwise than we do. It is not then in this element that 
we are to look for liberty ; still less is it in the third ele¬ 
ment, in the physical action ; for this action supposes an 
external world, an organization corresponding to it, and, 
in this organization, a muscular system, sound and suitable, 
without which the physical action is impossible. When 
we accomplish it, we are conscious of acting, but under the 
condition of a theatre of which we have not the disposal; 
and of instruments, of which we hare but an imperfect 
disposal, which we can neither replace, if they escape us, 
and they may do so every moment; nor repair, if they are 
out of order and unfaithful, as is often the case, and which 
are subject to laws peculiar to themselves over which we 
have no power and which we scarcely even know; whence 
it follows, that we do not act here with the consciousness 
of being able to do the contrary of what we do. Liberty, 
then, is no more to be found in the third, than in the first 
element. It can then only be in the second; and there in 
fact we find it. 

Neglect the first and the third element, the judgment and 
the physical action, and let the second element, the willing, 
subsist by itself, analysis discovers in this single element two 
terms, namely, a special act of willing, and the power of 
willing, which is within us, and to which we refer the spe¬ 
cial act. That act is an effect in relation to the power of 
willing which is its cause; and this cause, in order to 
produce its effect, has need of no other theatre, and no other 
instrument, than itself. It produces it directly, without 
anything intermediate, and without condition; continues 
and consummates ; or suspends and modifies; creates it, 
or annihilates it entirely; and at the moment it exerts itself 
in any special act, we are conscious that it might exert 
itself in a special act totally contrary, without any obstacle, 
without being thereby exhausted ; so that after having 
changed its acts a hundred times, the faculty remains inte¬ 
grally the same, inexhaustible and identical, amidst the 


286 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


perpetual variety of its applications, being always able to 
do what it does not do, and able not to do what it does. 
Here, then, in all its plenitude, is the characteristic of 
liberty. 

If the whole outward world were wanting to the will, yet 
if the organization and the muscular system existed, the 
will could still produce muscular effort, and consequently a 
sensible fact, even though this fact would not pass beyond 
the limits of the organization. This M. De Biran has 
perfectly established.* He regarded the phenomenon of 
muscular effort as the type of causality, of the will and of 
freedom. But while I readily agree with him, in regarding 
the muscular effort and the consciousness of this effort and 
the sensation which accompanies it, as the most eminent 
and-most easily appreciable type of our causative power, 
voluntary and free, I say still, that it is but an external and 
derivative type, and not the primitive and essential type; 
otherwise, M. de Biran would be obliged to carry his theory 
to the extreme of asserting that where there is absence or 
paralysis of the muscles, there can be no causation, volition 
or active and free phenomenon. Now, I maintain to the 
contrary; I maintain that if the external world be removed 
and the muscular and locomotive system taken away ; yet 
if there remained to man, along with an organization 
purely nervous, an intelligence capable of conceiving motives, 
of deliberating, of preferring and choosing, there would 
remain to him the power of willing, which might still 
exert itself in special acts, by volitions, in which the proper 
causality and the liberty of the will would still manifest 
itself, although these effects, these free volitions, would 
never pass beyond the internal world of the will, and would 
have no reaction on the organization through a muscular 
system, and would produce no phenomena of muscular 
effort—phenomena, which without doubt, are internal in 
reference to the external world, but which are themselves 
external in reference to the ’will. Thus, suppose I will to 
move my arm, without being able to do it through defect of 
the muscles; there is still in this fact: 1, the act of will¬ 

ing to move my arm, a special volition; 2, the general 
* See Chapter IV. 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


287 


power of willing, which is the direct cause of this volition; 
there would, then, in such a case, be an effect and a cause ; 
there would be consciousness of this effect and cause, of a 
casual act, of an internal causative force, supreme in its 
own world, in the world of willing ; even though it might 
be absolutely unable to pass to the external action, because 
the muscular system was defective. 

The theory of M. de Biran, then, takes the free act only 
in its external manifestation and not in its foundation, in a 
remarkable fact undoubtedly, but which itself supposes an 
antecedent, namely the profound and intimate fact of will¬ 
ing with its immediate and proper effect. Here in my 
judgment, is the primitive type of freedom ;—and this is 
the conclusion to which this analysis brings us—an ana¬ 
lysis too long perhaps for its place, and too brief in itself 
not to be still very gross. When, in an action, we are 
seeking for that which constitutes its freedom, we may be 
deceived in two ways: 

Either it may be sought in what I have called the intellec¬ 
tual element of the action, the knowledge of motives, 
deliberation, preference, choice,—and then it cannot be 
found; for it is evident that the different motives for or 
against, apply to and govern the intellect, which is not free 
to judge indifferently this or the opposite. They who seek 
for it thus, do not find liberty in the intellectual part of 
action ; they decide therefore that there is no liberty. 
Undoubtedly it is not where they seek it, but it may be 
elsewhere; such is the first way of falling into error. 

Or, they seek for liberty in the physical element of the 
action; and they do not find it there, at least not con¬ 
stantly, for every action is not the reflection of a volition; 
and they are tempted to conclude that liberty is but an 
accident, which sometimes exists, but three quarters of the 
time has no existence, and which is dependent on physical 
conditions, either external or internal. They see there no 
token of the proper and fundamental power of human nature. 

Now if we wish to refer to their most general causes these 
two sorts of errors, that is, if we wish to consider them in 
reference to scientific method, we may say that they consist, 
the first, in looking for the phenomenon of liberty in the 


288 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


antecedent of it, namely, in tlie intellectual fact which always 
precedes the free act of the will, but which does not en¬ 
gender and contain it as the cause engenders and contains 
the effect ; the second, in looking for the phenomenon of 
liberty, not in the antecedent, but in the consequent, so to 
say, of the phenomenon, in the sensible fact which some¬ 
times (but not always) follows willing, but which does not 
include it, except as borrowed from another source. This 
brings us back to the general source of all the errors of 
Locke : the confusion of an idea with that which precedes 
or that which follows it. You have seen this in regard to 
space, to time, the infinite, substance, cause, good and evil; 
and you may now see it in regard to the theory of Liberty. 

Locke begins (Book II. ch. XXI. Of Power, § 5.) by di¬ 
viding all the phenomena of consciousness, not into three 
classes, but into two, the understanding and the will, 
a division radically false and contrary to facts. 

Then follows a classification of actions: 

“ All the actions that we have any idea of, reduce them¬ 
selves to two, namely, thinking and motion.” Ibid. § 8. 
Sometimes in Locke, the will includes both these actions, 
sometimes it applies only to motion. 

“ This power which the mind has to order the considera¬ 
tion of any idea or the forbearing to consider it; or to prefer 
the motion of any part of the body to its rest, and vice versa 
in any particular instance, is that which we call the will. 
The actual exercise of that power, by directing any particu¬ 
lar action, or its forbearance, is that which we call volition 
or willing.” Ibid. § 5. 

Here you perceive, the will is made to apply to acts of the 
understanding as well as the motions of the body. In the 
following passage, on the contrary, it is applied only to the 
latter: “ Volition, it is plain, is an act of the mind know¬ 
ingly exerting that dominion it takes itself to have over any 
part of the man, by employing it in, or withholding it from, 
any particular action.” Ibid. § 15. 

The theory of the will, in Locke, appears, then, as fluctu¬ 
ating and inconsistent as the other theories which have been 
exhibited. As to the rest, on both hands there is equal error. 
Does Locke seek for the will in the understanding ? It is 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


289 


clear he cannot find it there ; for liberty is not and cannot 
be found in the operations of thought: and Locke is here 
deceived by confounding a phenomenon with that which 
precedes it, and does not include it.—Again : does Locke 
wish to understand, by will, merely the faculty of moving 
his body ? It is clear likewise that he will not find free¬ 
dom in that faculty; for, as you know, our physical power 
is limited on all hands, and we have not always the control 
of it with the consciousness of power to do the contrary of 
what we actually do ; and here Locke is deceived by con¬ 
founding the internal phenomenon of volition with the 
external phenomenon of motion, which sometimes follows 
the volition but which is not the volition itself. This 
however, mixed up with many inconsistencies, is the pre¬ 
dominant theory of Locke, a theory, which, like that of 
M. de Biran, but with less profoundness, concentrates the 
will into one of its applications, visible external action. 
If the will is only the power of motion, it is not always 
and essentially free. This is the positive conclusion of 
Locke : 

Ibid. § 14. “ Liberty belongs not to the will .—If this 

be so (as I imagine it is) I leave it to be considered, whether 
it may not help to put an end to that long agitated, and I 
think unreasonable, because unintelligible question, namely: 

whether man’s will be free or no. -The question itself 

is altogether improper; and it is as insignificant to ask 
whether man’s will be free, as to ask, whether his sleep be 
swift, or his virtue square- 

§ 10. “ Our idea of liberty reaches as far as that power 
[of doing or forbearing to do], and no farther. For where- 
ever restraint comes in to check that power, or compulsion 
takes away that indifferency of ability on either side to act, 
or to forbear acting; there, liberty, and our notion of it, 
presentty cease.” 

Now, as it is unquestionable that a thousand obstacles 
oppose, or may perpetually oppose, our power of acting 
(evidently here by him meant physical), it follows that there 
is sometimes liberty and sometimes not; and even when it 
exists, it exists only by the concurrence of external circum¬ 
stances which might have prevented it. To explain liberty 
2 c 




290 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


in this way, is to destroy it. Liberty is not and cannot be, 
neither in the faculty of thinking, nor in that of [outward] 
action, since they are subject to necessary laws and con¬ 
ditions. But Liberty exists in the pure power of Willing, 
which is always accompanied by the consciousness of the 
power to will (I do not say power to think, or power to 
act, but power to will) the contrary of what it wills. Locke 
has then destroyed liberty by denying it to the will, and 
seeking for it either in the thinking faculty, or in the power 
of outward motion. He destroys it, and he thinks he has 
even destroyed the question concerning liberty. But the 
belief of the human race protests against the annihilation 
of liberty, and the whole history of philosophy protests 
against the annihilation of the question concerning it.* 

* [ Doctrine concerning the Will and Freedom. In the discussion 
of the subject of liberty in the foregoing chapter, Cousin presumes the 
Freedom of the Will, in opposition to the doctrine of philosophical 
necessity, as maintained by many English and American philoso¬ 
phers and theologians. This is obvious throughout, and particularly 
from his definition of liberty, as referring to “those acts which we 
perform with the consciousness of doing them, and of being able 
not to do them,” at the same time.— By this, he obviously does not 
mean to assert—and he does not think it necessary to say that he 
does not—that this consciousness always and necessarily accompanies 
the act of the will at the moment of its performance ; because we 
may sometimes not reflect at all about it. But that such a conviction 
is inseparable from every free act, is apparent to every one who 
will reflect, that is, observe his consciousness. 

It may be doubted whether Cousin has rightly taken up Locke on 
one part of this subject. Though the system of Locke involves the 
necessarian scheme of the will, and in strict logical consistency re¬ 
sults in the destruction of freedom ; yet Locke’s denial of freedom to 
the will, can in propriety be made only a verbal question : for what 
he denies to the will, he expressly attributes to man. Nothing, 
therefore, in regard to the question concerning Liberty and Neces¬ 
sity, in the ordinary sense of these terms, can be argued from the dis¬ 
tinction made by Locke. The proper question is, whether that kind 
of liberty which Locke attributes to man—and not to his will—is 
Necessarianism or Self-determination. 

It may be doubted, also, whether the process of voluntary action, 
as described by Cousin, be sufficiently general to include all cases 
—whether, in every instance , there is such a process of deliberation, 
preference, and choice, as he describes to be the condition and 
antecedent of the pure act of willing. This, however, will invalidate 
neither the general conclusion that liberty is to be sought for in the 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


291 


I now pass to another point, the theory of the nature of 
the soul. 

Will, and not in the Sense nor in the Intellect, nor in his subsequent 
reasoning ; because the act of willing , to which liberty will not be 
denied, if it is allowed or pretended any where, is an element of 
universal consciousness in the complex process of action ; whether 
the limits where necessity ceases and liberty begins, be made a 
little too broad or too narrow ; and of course those who make the 
whole complex process necessary, cannot quarrel with the concession 
that a part is so. 

The great question on this subject doubtless is, whether the will, 
in all its particular volitions, is necessarily determined by causes from 
without:—whether the will, in its acts, is subjected to the law of 
necessity, equally with the phenomena of the outward world. This 
is the only question of material importance. If this be not the ques¬ 
tion, then there is nothing in question worth contending about. Those 
who hold the freedom of the will, in opposition to the necessarian 
scheme, maintain that the will is itself the efficient cause of its own 
volitions; that it is not determined by any necessity ah extra; that 
is not subjected to the mechanism of cause and effect. They hold 
an essential difference between Nature and Spirit—and that this 
difference and that the former is, and the latter is not, subjected to 
the law of necessity. They hold Freedom and Necessity to be 
incompatible—exclusive of each other; that the Necessarian doc¬ 
trine destroys the difference in kind, between nature and spirit, be¬ 
tween Freedom and Mechanism. They regard Freedom as the 
essential attribute and characteristic of the Will, and hold that the 
very idea of Freedom, both in itself, and as the principle of per¬ 
sonality and the foundation of moral responsibility, excludes any such 
necessary determination as is maintained by the necessarians. They 
hold that the will is a Law to itself, and not subjected to a Law out 
of itself. Like other powers, however, conditions of its action are 
requisite. These conditions are what is commonly included in the 
word motives. Motives are the occasion, the condition of volitions, 
but not the cause of them. 

The whole necessarian scheme is grounded upon the assumption 
that the will is not a law to itself, but is subjected, equally with 
external nature, to a law out of itself. The whole necessarian argu¬ 
ment proceeds upon the confusion of the conditions of volitions with its 
cause —upon the assumption that motives stand to volition in the rela¬ 
tion of cause to effect; and involves the old sophism : quod hoc ergo , 
propter hoc. Now motives may be allowed to be the universal and 
necessary condition of all special determinations of the will, that is, 
of all particular volitions ; and yet it would by no means therefore 
follow that those volitions are necessarily determined, produced, 
caused by the motives. Though man never acts without motives it 
would not necessarily follow that his actions are caused by motives; 
for the motives may be simply the occasion and condition of his 

2 c 2 


292 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


It has been shown (eh. III.) that it is impossible to know 
any phenomenon of consciousness, the phenomenon of sensa- 

volitions ; and it would remain to be proved that they are anything 
more. Unless they do this, necessarians beg the very thing in 
quesiion, which is, not whether there is a constant and necessary 
co-presence of motives whenever a particular volition is so and not 
otherwise, but whether these motives stand in a relation of a cause 
to the volition being so and not otherwise, or only in the relation 
of a condition to the acting of the will, while the will of itself, as an 
efficient power and the principle and cause of its own volitions, 
determines the particular volition so and not otherwise. In an 
exhausted receiver, a guinea and a feather will fall through an equal 
space in the same time ; but it would be absurd, in strict language, 
to call the exhaustion of the air the cause of the phenomenon : it is 
only the occasion, and condition, while the cause is gravitation. 

In this view, the celebrated axiom of Edwards, “ that the will is 
as the greater apparent good,” if it be taken to mean anything more 
(as he unquestionably did take it) than that motives are the condi¬ 
tion of volition, is reduced to the flat truism, that the will is as 
the will is. 

In regard to the objections brought against the doctrine of Free¬ 
dom, a few words may be offered. 

The doctrine is said to involve the position, that men act without 
motives. This objection is already sufficiently disposed of. It is 
no more a part of the doctrine of Liberty than of Necessity. To 
pretend that man acts or wills without motive or reason, would be 
a contradiction ; it would be to confound the human will with the 
animal instinct, where, reason being wanting, the will is merged in 
a higher law r , of which it is an organ, instrument, or manifestation ; 
—or rather where there is no will, in any proper sense of the word. 
That men act from reasons with a motive, is fully asserted. It is 
only denied that these motives are the necessary causes of volition. 
—It is very true, that there are cases in which the maxim, stat vo¬ 
luntas pro ratione, holds good; that is, in the absence of other mo¬ 
tives, the will decides for the sake of deciding. If a purse is filled 
with pieces of gold, and it is offered to me upon condition of saying 
correctly whether the number of pieces be equal or unequal, and l 
say equal, it may be solely because I will to say so; that is all the 
reason I can give. It is very much my interest to say something ; 
but no interest may determine me to say equal, rather than unequal; 
and this very consideration of the absence of motives, may be suf¬ 
ficient to constitute the condition, or previous deliberation, required 
in order to the exercise of the free will. The presence of motives 
is fully admitted, as the condition of volition. 

It is also objected, that as every event must have a cause, if motives 
are not the cause of volitions, we have phenomena without a cause —Not 
to advert here to any higher considerations which might vacate the 
objection, it is sufficient to reply, that the consequence by no means 


ELEMENTS OP PSYCHOLOGY. 


293 


tion or of volition, or of intelligence, without instantly 
referring these phenomena to a subject one and indentical, 

follows. For it may be said the will itself is the cause. The will is a 
faculty or power of acting, limited indeed, and conditioned ; but within 
its limits, and when its conditions are supplied, capable of acting, of 
determining itself in a special direction, that is, of originating par¬ 
ticular volitions : and therefore as truly a cause as God or a physi¬ 
cal efficient. The will is a general power or faculty of acting, that 
is, of willing. Volitions are special actual exertions of this power, 
particular actual determinations of it. The latter are the effect, the 
former is their sole principle and cause. In this view, Edwards’s 
famous reductio ad absurdum falls to pieces. His argument is, that 
if a given volition be not determined by motives as its cause, it must 
be without a cause ; or else it must be determined by a previous 
volition , and that by another, and so on, ad infinitum. But deny his 
inference ; lay your finger upon the given volition, or upon any one 
in the series, and call upon him to prove that the general faculty of 
willing is not a power adequate to the direct production of the given 
volition,—and his reduction is at an end, at all events, stopped, till 
he fulfil the demand. 

But what, after all, is this pretended denial of causation charged 
upon the doctrine of free will ? So entirely the reverse of the fact 
is the assumption made in the objection, that without the very free¬ 
dom which necessarians deny, there would be for us no such concep¬ 
tion as that of causation. It is in the exertion of this free will that 
the idea of a cause is given us. It is precisely because the free agent 
determines himself, and is not determined, that he really produces 
an effect; ar.d in the consciousness of this, he finds the primitive 
idea of cause. 

There is another objection made in the interest of theology, and 
which at the present day, attaches many to the doctrine of necessity 
that the doctrine of liberty contradicts divine prescience and certainty 
in the moral government of the world. 

This objection is as old as Cicero, to go no further back, and 
may be well enough presented in his words: “If the will is free, 
then Fate does not rule everything; if Fate does not rule 
everything then the order of all causes is not certain, and 
the order of things is no longer certain in the prescience of 
God; if the order of things is not certain in the prescience of God, 
then things will not take place as he foresees them; and if things 
do not take place as he foresees them, there is in God no foreknow¬ 
ledge.” St. Augustine may supply the answer : “ Although the 
order of causes be certain to God, it does not follow that nothing 
depends upon our will ; for our wills themselves are in the order of 
causes which are certain to God, and which he foresees, because 
men’s wills are also the causes of their actions; so that he who has 
foreseen all causes has also foreseen our wills which are the causes 
of our actions,” ( De Civitate Dei, V. 9.) “ If God foresees our 

2 c 3 


294 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


which is self, the I; and likewise, that we cannot know the ex¬ 
ternal phenomena of resistance, solidity, figure, colour, smell, 
taste, etc., without judging that they are not phenomena in the 
air, but phenomena which pertain to something real, which 
is solid, figured, coloured, etc. On the other hand, if you 
did not know any of the phenomena of consciousness, you 
would never have the least idea of the subject of these pheno¬ 
mena ; and if you did not know the external phenomena 
of resistance, figure, colour, etc., you would never have any 
idea of a subject of these phenomena. These characteristics 
or attributes, are, then, for you, the only signs or tokens of 
the nature of the subjects of these phenomena, whether they 
are phenomena of consciousness, or external phenomena. 
In examining the phenomena which fall under the senses, 
we find important differences between them, which it is 
useless to insist upon here, and which establish the distinc¬ 
tion of primary and secondary qualities. Among the 
primary qualities, and in the first rank, is solidity, which 
is given in the sensation of resistance, and inevitably ac¬ 
companied by that of form, etc. On the contrary, when 
you examine the phenomena of consciousness, you do not 
find in them this characteristic of resistance, of solidity, 
form, etc.; and you could no more speak of the phenomena 
of your consciousness as having figure, solidity, resistance, 
than as having secondary qualities equally foreign to them, 
colour, taste, sound, smell. Now, as the subject is for us 
nothing but the aggregate of the phenomena which reveal 
it to us, with the addition of the idea of its own existence 
so far forth as the subject of the inherence of these qualities; 
it follows that, under phenomena marked with dissimilar 

will,” says the same writer in another place, (De libero arbitrio, lib. 
iii. c. 3,) “ as it is certain that he foresees it, there will therefore 
be the will; and there cannot be a will if it is not free ; therefore 
this liberty is foreseen by God. Hence, his prescience does not 
destroy my liberty.” The answer is certainly as good as the ob¬ 
jection. 

In short, as the knowledge which we have of present things, so 
far forth as knowledge, imposes no necessity upon them, although 
it is certain that they are taking place as we see them ; so the pre¬ 
science of God, which sees the future as the present , imposes no 
necessity upon future events or actions, although they will certainly 
take place as he foresaw them.—T r.] 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


295 


characteristics, and altogether foreign to each other, the 
human mind conceives their subjects dissimilar and of dif¬ 
ferent kind. Thus, as solidity and figure have nothing in 
common with the phenomena of sensation, of thought and 
of will; as every solid is for us extended and necessarily 
located by us in space, while our thoughts, our volitions, 
and our sensations, are for us unextended and cannot be 
conceived and located in space, but only in time; the human 
mind concludes with perfect strictness that the subject of the 
external phenomena has the character of the former, and 
that the subject of the phenomena of consciousness has the 
same character with the latter, that the one is solid and 
extended, the other neither solid nor extended. In fine, 
as that which is solid and extended is divisible, and as 
that which is not solid nor extended, is indivisible, divi¬ 
sibility is therefore attributed to the solid and extended 
subject, and indivisibility, that is, simplicity, is attributed 
to the subject which is not solid nor extended. Who of 
us, in fact, does not believe himself a being indivisible and 
simple, one and identical, the same yesterday, to-day, and 
to-morrow ? Now, then, the word, Body, Matter, sig¬ 
nifies nothing else than the subject of those external 
phenomena, of which the most remarkable are form, exten¬ 
sion, solidity, divisibility. The word Spirit, Soul, signifies 
nothing else than the subject of those phenomena of con¬ 
sciousness, thought, volition, sensation, phenomena simple, 
unextended, not solid, etc. See the whole idea of spirit, 
and the whole idea of Matter. There is nothing more 
under the idea of matter, than that of an aggregate of 
sensible qualities, with the addition of a subject of the 
inherence of those qualities ; there is nothing more under 
the idea of spirit, than that of an aggregate of the pheno¬ 
mena of consciousness, with the addition of that of the 
existence of a subject in which those phenomena co-exist. 
You see, then, the whole of what is requisite in order to 
identify matter with mind, or mind with matter; it is 
necessary to pretend that sensation, thought, volition, are 
reducible, in the last analysis, to solidity, extension, figure, 
divisibility, etc.; or that solidity, extension, figure, etc., 
are reducible to sensation, thought, will. [And according 


296 


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to the starting-point of the reduction, and its direction, 
are the two opposite systematic results.] In the view of 
Spiritualism, there will be but one substance, namely 
Spirit, because there is but one single general phenomenon, 
namely consciousness. In the view of Materialism, there 
will be but one substance, namely Matter, because there 
is but one single fundamental phenomenon, namely solidity 
or extension. 

These are the two great systems; they have each their 
part of truth and their part of error, which it is not my 
purpose now to determine. I wish only to state the fact, 
that Locke inclines more to the one than the other, and 
that he is almost led to derive thought from extension, and 
consequently to make the mind a modification of matter. 
It is true, Locke is far from explaining himself clearly or 
decisively on this point; but he advances the notion that 
it might not be impossible that matter, besides the pheno¬ 
menon of extension, by a certain disposition and arrange¬ 
ment of its particles, should produce also the phenomenon 
of thought. He does not say that the soul is material, but 
that it might very well be so. 

See this important passage, B. IY. ch. III. § 6 : “ We 
have the ideas of matter and of thinking , but possibly shall 
never be able to know, whether any mere material being 
thinks, or no ; it being impossible for us, by the contempla¬ 
tion of our own ideas without relation, to discover, whether 
omnipotency has not given to some systems of matter fitly 
disposed, a power to perceive and think, or else joined 
and fitted to matter so disposed, a thinking immaterial 

substance.-What certainty of knowledge can any 

one have that some perceptions, such as pleasure and 
pain, should not be in some bodies themselves after a certain 
manner modified, as well as that they should be in an im¬ 
material substance, upon the motion of the parts of the 
body ?” 

Locke therefore declares that, apart from revelation, and 
within the limits of reason alone, he is not certain that the 
soul may not be material. Now you conceive that if the 
soul is not immaterial, it runs some risk of not being im¬ 
mortal ; for, if the phenomenon of thought and conscious- 



ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


297 


ness are nothing but the result of the combination of mate¬ 
rial particles, extended and divisible, the dissolution of this 
organization may well involve that of thought and the soul. 
Locke replies that this consequence is not to be feared; 
for, material or not, revelation guarantees the immortality of 
the soul. “ And therefore,” says he, (ibid.) “ it is not of 
such mighty necessity to determine one way or the other, 
as some over-zealous for or against the immateriality of the 
soul, have been forward to make the world believe.” And 
when his adversaries insist, when Bishop Stillingfleet ob¬ 
jects, that “ it takes off very much from the evidence of 
immortality, to make it depend wholly upon God’s giving 
that of which it is not capable in its own nature,” Locke 
is ready to cry out upon him as a blasphemer; “ that is to 
say, says he, it is not as credible upon divine revelation, 
that a material substance should be immortal, as an imma¬ 
terial ; or, which is all one, God is not equally to be be¬ 
lieved when he declared it, because the immortality of a 
material substance cannot be demonstrated from natural 
reason.” Again: “ any one’s not being able to demonstrate 
the soul to be immortal, takes not off from the evidence 
of its immortality, if God has revealed it; because the 
veracity of God is a demonstration of the truth of what he 
has revealed, and the want of another demonstration of a 
proposition, that is demonstratively true, takes not off from 
the evidence of it.” And he goes on to say that his system 
is the only Christian system. Certainly I believe no such 
thing: but without descending to this ground, which is 
not ours, notice the consequence involved in such a system. 
If the immateriality of the soul is very doubtful and in¬ 
different, and if the immortality of the soul, in itself equally 
doubtful as its immateriality, is grounded solely upon the 
promise of God, who is to be believed upon his word, that 
is, the Christian Kevelation ; it follows that whoever has not 
the happiness to be enlightened, as Locke was, by the rays 
of the Christian Bevelation, and who has no other resource 
than that of his own reason, can legitimately believe neither 
in the immateriality nor the immortality of the soul; and 
this is to condemn the entire human race to materialism, 
previous to Christianity, and more than half of humanity, 


298 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


since then. But facts repel this sad consequence; facts 
attest that reason, so feeble according to Locke, has sufficed 
to establish, and still suffices to establish the two-fold con¬ 
viction of the immateriality and immortality of the soul. 
The universal and perpetual revelation of Beason, (the light 
of the word which lighteth every man that cometh into the 
world,) more or less vivid, more or less pure, has every¬ 
where preceded, prepared for, or supplied the place of that 
[special revelation] which in the designs of Providence, and 
in the progress of humanity, has come to establish, extend, 
and complete the former. Finally, I wish you to notice 
that it is the father of the Sensual school of the eighteenth 
century, who here announces himself in opposition to reason, 
and substitutes theology in place of philosophy, and, as to 
the rest, with perfect loyalty, for he firmly believed in 
revelation and in Christianity which establish and save the 
immateriality, or at least the immortality of the soul. 
Hereafter* we shall see what became of these two great 
truths in the hands of the successors of Locke, who, after 
liis example, declare reason in respect to these subjects feeble 
and incompetent, and like him refer them to faith, to re¬ 
velation, to theology, some believing and some disbelieving 
the authority they invoke. 

I have proved, I think, that Locke, in seeking for liberty 
where it could not be found, in the power of motion, has, 
in the midst of many contradictions, put philosophy upon 
the route to fatalism. I have shown likewise that, without 
affirming the soul to be material and perishable, he at least 
says that revelation alone can give us any certainty of it; 
and he has consequently put philosophy, properly speaking, 
upon the road to materialism. Now I am happy to declare 
that Locke has not the least in the world put philosophy 
upon the road to atheism. Locke, not only as a Christian, 
but as a philosopher, admits and proclaims the existence of 
God, and has given excellent natural proofs of it; but it 
is important to put you fully in possession of the particular 

•[Alluding to future lectures which it was the intention ofCousin 
to have given, but which have never been given, designed to exhibit 
the history and progress of the Sensual school, with a critical ex¬ 
amination of the principal successors of Locke.— Tr.J 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


299 


character of these proofs, which are likewise in keeping 
with the general system of Locke. 

There are various and different proofs of the existence 
of God. The gratifying result of my studies in this res¬ 
pect, is, that these various proofs have different degrees of 
strictness in their form, but that they all have a foundation 
of truth, which needs simply to be disengaged and put in 
clear light in order to give them an incontrovertible autho¬ 
rity. Everything leads us to God ; there is no bad way 
of arriving thither ; we may go in different ways. In 
general, all the proofs of every sort, of the existence of God, 
are comprehended under two great classes, namely: proofs 
a 'posteriori, and proofs a priori. Either I give myself, 
aided by my senses and consciousness, to the observation 
and study of the external world and of my own existence; 
and simply by a knowledge, more or less profound and ex¬ 
tended, of nature and myself, after sufficient observations, 
and inductions founded upon them, I arrive at the know¬ 
ledge of God, who made man and the world. This is 
called the demonstration a posteriori , of the existence of 
God.—Or, I may neglect the external world, and fall back 
upon myself, in the entirely interior world of consciousness ; 
and even there, without engaging in the study of its nu¬ 
merous phenomena, I may derive at once front reason an 
idea, a single idea, which, without the aid of experience, in 
the hands of that same reason, becomes the basis of a de¬ 
monstration of the existence of God. This is called the 
demonstration a priori. 

Look for example, at the most celebrated proof a priori, 
and which includes nearly all the others of this kind. When 
we fall back upon ourselves, the first glance which we 
bestow upon the phenomena of consciousness discovers to 
us this striking and incontestable characteristic, that they 
begin, and intermit, renew themselves, and cease, have their 
different degrees of intensity and energy, are marked with 
the qualities of more and less; in a word they are imper¬ 
fect, limited, finite. Now this characteristic of finite can¬ 
not, as we have seen (ch. III.) be given us, without the 
reason entering into exercise, and passing instantly this 
judgment: that there is something infinite, if there is any- 


300 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


thing finite. If you have not studied external nature, yet 
consciousness would suffice to give you the idea of the 
finite, and consequently the reason would have a sufficient 
basis for developing ’itself and suggesting the idea of the 
infinite. The idea of the infinite opposed to the idea of 
the finite, is nothing less than the idea of perfection op¬ 
posed to the idea of imperfection. What in fact is consci¬ 
ousness for us, but the sentiment of our imperfection and 
our weakness ? I do not dispose of my sensations; they 
come and go at their will; they appear and disappear, 
often without my being able to retain or repel them. Nor 
do I control my judgments; they are subject to laws I 
have never made. I have the direction of my will, it is 
true, but frequently it results only in internal acts, with¬ 
out being able to pass into external actions; and sleep, 
and lethargy, and delirium, suspend it. On eveiy hand, 
the finite and imperfect appear in me. But I cannot have 
the idea of the finite and imperfect, without having the 
idea of the perfect and infinite. These two ideas are logical 
correlatives; and in the order of their acquisition, that of 
.finite and imperfect precedes the other, but it scarcely 
precedes it. It is not possible for the reason, as soon as 
consciousness furnishes the mind with the idea of the finite 
and imperfe6t, not to conceive the idea of the infinite and 
perfect. 

Now, the infinite and the perfect, is God himself. It is 
enough therefore for you to have the idea of the imperfect 
and finite, in order to have the idea of the perfect and the 
infinite, that is to say, of God, whether you do or do not 
call it by that name, whether you know how to express in 
w T ords the convictions of your intelligence, or whether 
through defect of language and analysis, they remain ob¬ 
scure and indistinct in the depths of your soul. Once more 
then, I say : do not go to consult the savage, the child, or 
the idiot, to know whether they have the idea of God; ask 
them, or rather, without asking them anything, ascertain if 
they have the idea of the imperfect and the finite; and 
if they have it, and they cannot but have it if they 
have the least perception, be sure that they have an 
obscure and confused idea of something infinite and per- 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


301 


feet; be sure that what they discern of themselves and of 
the world, does not suffice them, and that they at once 
humble and exalt themselves in a deep felt faith in the ex¬ 
istence of something infinite and perfect, that is to say, of 
God. The word- may be wanting among them, because 
the idea is not yet clear and distinct; but no less does it 
exist within the folds of the opening intelligence, and the 
philosophic observer easily discovers it there. 

The infinite and the perfect are given you along with 
the imperfect and the finite; and the finite and the imper¬ 
fect are given you immediately by your consciousness, as 
soon as there are under the eye of consciousness any phe¬ 
nomena. The idea of the finite and imperfect, being, then, 
primitive, the correlative idea of the infinite and perfect, 
and consequently of God, is also primitive. 

The idea of God is a primitive idea; but from whence 
comes this idea ? Is it a creature of your imagination, an 
illusion, a chimera ? You can imagine a gorgon, a cen¬ 
taur, and you can imagine them not to exist; but is it in 
your power, when the finite and the imperfect are given, to 
conceive or not to conceive, the infinite and perfect ? No : 
the one being given, the other is also given, and necessarily 
given. It is not then a chimera; it is the necessary pro¬ 
duct of reason; therefore it is a legitimate product. Either, 
you must renounce your reason ; and then we will talk no 
more neither of reason, nor of truth, nor of knowledge, nor 
of philosophy ; or, you must admit the authority of reason, 
and admit it in regard to this subject, as well as in regard 
to other subjects. 

In fine, you see where I wish to come: the simple fact, 
of the conception of God by the reason, the simple idea of 
God, the simple possibility of the existence of God, implies 
the certainty and necessity of the existence of God.* 

* [This agreement is not, in its conclusion, unfolded with the 
usual fullness of Cousin. The point of the argument, as I apprehend 
his meaning, is, that as in the human consciousness, there is, for 
the understanding, the notion of finite and imperfect existence, 
accompanied by an invincible conviction of a reality corresponding ; 
so likewise, there is in human consciousness, for the reason, the 
idea of an infinite and perfect being, of God, accompanied likewise 
with an invincible conviction of a reality corresponding to the 

2 D 


302 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


Such, nearly, is that celebrated demonstration a 'priori , 
of the existence of God, that is, the proof independently of 
experience. Now look at the proof a posteriori; a few words 
will be enough to put you in possession of it j it explains 
itself. 

This proof consists in arriving at God solely by an in¬ 
duction founded on experience, and on observation more or 
less extended. Instead of closing your senses, and opening, 
only your consciousness, you open your senses, and close 
up more or less your consciousness, in order to survey every¬ 
where nature and the vast world which surrounds you; 
and by a contemplation, more or less profound, by studies, 
more or less intelligent, you become penetrated with the 
beauty, the order, the intelligence, the skill, the perfection 
diffused through the universe : and as the cause must, at 
least, be equal to the effect, you reason from Nature to its 
Author; from the existence and perfection of the one, you 
conclude the existence and perfection of the other. 

These two proofs, I repeat, are good; and instead of 
choosing between them, we ought to do as the human 
mind does, employ them both. In fact, they are so little 
exclusive of each other, that they each contain something 
of the other. The argument a priori , for example, sup¬ 
poses an element a posteriori, a datum of observation and 
experience, for, although the idea of the infinite, of the 
perfect, of unity, of the absolute, conducts directly to God, 
and although this idea is given by reason and not by 
experience, yet it is not given independently of all expe¬ 
rience, [is not given without experience as its occasion and 
condition,] since reason would never give us this idea 
without the simultaneous, or anterior idea of the finite, 
the imperfect, of variety, of the contingent, which is derived 
from experience; only in this case, the experimental datum 

idea ;—and that the human mind is as necessarily determined to a 
belief in the latter as in the former—that is to say, if we determine 
that the necessary action of our faculties is a trustworthy ground of 
belief in one case, it is so in the other. At all events, it seems to 
me, that the existence of God needs as little to be proved as the ex¬ 
istence of the world. —God has written the truth deep and ineffacibly 
in the heart of universal humanity.—T r.] 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


303 


is rather internal than external, it is borrowed from the 
consciousness, and not from the senses; though it is still 
true, that every phenomenon of consciousness supposes a 
sensitive phenomenon, simultaneous or anterior. An ele¬ 
ment a 'posteriori intervenes, then, as the condition of the 
demonstration a priori. 

So likewise, a little reflection shows, that the proof from 
experience a posteriori implies an element purely rational 
and a priori. In fact, on what condition do you conclude 
from nature to God ? On condition that you admit, or at 
least, that you employ the principle of causality: for if 
you are destitute of this principle, you might contemplate 
and study the world forever, you might forever admire its 
perfection, the order and wisdom which shine in it, without 
ever rising to the supposition that all this is only an effect, 
that it all must have a cause. Take away the principle 
of causality, and there are for us no longer any causes, 
there would no longer be, neither the need nor the possi¬ 
bility of seeking for them, nor of finding them, and 
induction would no longer go from the world and physical 
order to its cause, to God. Now, the principle of causality 
has indeed an experimental condition; but it is not itself 
derived from experience ; it supposes experience, and it is 
applied to experience, but it governs it and decides upon 
it. It properly belongs to the reason. (See cli. IV)— 
See then an element a priori in the proof a posteriori. The 
basis of this argument is certainly experimental, but its 
instrument is rational. Further: this world is full of 
harmony: I believe it; and the more we look at it, especially 
if we place ourselves in a certain point of view which 
observation may indeed establish, but which it does not 
give, the more we are struck with the order of the world; 
but we can also, by consulting only the senses, find appear¬ 
ances of confusion and disorder: we cannot comprehend 
the reason of volcanoes which overwhelm flourishing cities, 
of earthquakes and tempests, and the like : in a word, 
observation employed alone, in its weakness and limitations, 
and when not directed by a superior principle, may easily 
find disorder and evil in the world. Now, if to this decep¬ 
tive experience, you connect the rational principle, that 
2 d 2 


304 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


everything which is true of the effect is true of the cause, 
you will be forced to admit in the cause what there'is in 
the effect, that is to say, not only intelligence, wisdom, 
and power, but also degrading imperfections, as has indeed 
been done by more than one distinguished mind, when 
under the exclusive direction of experience, and by more 
than one people in the infancy of humanity. In fine, so 
many diverse effects, of which experience does not always 
show the connection, might easily conduct not to God as 
one sole cause, but to divers causes, and to a plurality of 
Gods ; and history is at hand to justify this apprehension. 
You see then clearly, that the proof a posteriori, which, in 
the first place, essentially requires the rational principle 
of causality, has need also of other principles still to direct 
the application of causality to experience—principles, which, 
in order to govern experience, should not come from it, 
but must come from reason. The argument a posteriori , 
supposes, then, more then one element a priori. Thus 
completed, it has its use and excellence, as well as the ar¬ 
gument a priori , when well regulated and recalled to its 
true principles, 

These two arguments are not in themselves exclusive of 
each other; but one or the other is more striking, according 
to the turn of mind, and moral and religious condition of 
individuals and nations. The Christian religion, rational 
and idealistic, which takes its grounds in the mind, and 
not in the senses, employs chiefly proofs a priori. Neglect¬ 
ing Nature, or regarding it under an ideal point of view, 
it is in the depths of the soul, through Season and the 
Word, that it rises to God. The argument a priori is 
eminently the Christian argument. It belongs particularly 
to the reign of Christianity, to the middle age, to the Scho¬ 
lastic philosophy which represents it. There it is, that 
developed, cleared up, spread abroad and almost popu¬ 
larized in Europe, by the great doctors of the Church, it 
passed from Christian theology, into the Ideal school of 
modern philosophy, through Descartes, Malebranche, Spi¬ 
noza, Leibnitz, Wolf, and their most recent successors.* 

* [Descartes, who presented the a priori argument in the seven¬ 
teenth century, under a form at once the most precise and para- 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


305 


Oil the contrary, the religions of the first age of human¬ 
ity, which are not yet religious “ in spirit and in truth,” 
and which are almost solely founded upon the senses and 
appearance, employ more especially the proof a posteriori; 
and while religion founded on the ideal ground, tends too 
much to the separation of God from nature, because the 
proof upon which it rests separates too much reason and 
consciousness from the senses and from experience; so, in 
their turn, the religions of Nature make God in the image 

doxical, believed that he had invented it : but he undoubtedly owed 
it to the Scholastic philosophy—and perhaps to St. Anselm.—St. 
Anselm was born in 1034 and died in 1109. One of his most impor¬ 
tant works is his Monologium, seu Exemplum meditandi de Ratione 
Fidei. His method in this work consists in deducing all theological 
truths from a single point—the being of God. The diversity and 
plurality of the Beautiful, the Sublime, the Good, the True, involve 
the supposition of an ideal One a Unity which is the essence of 
all Beauty, Goodness, and Truth. It must exist, for it is this which 
is the necessary form of everything which exists. This unity is 
anterior to the plurality, and is its root. Est ergo, aliquid unum, 
quod sive essentia, sive natura sive substantia, dicitur, optimum et 
maximum est et summum omnium quae sujit. This unity is God ; 
from hence St. Anselm deduces the whole system of theology. 

Another work of his is entitled Prosologium seu Fides quaerens 
intellectum. —The name of St. Anselm is attached to an argument 
which deduces the demonstration of the existence of God, solely 
from the idea of God—an argument which has experienced many 
changes of fortupe. It was greatly derided in the eighteenth cen¬ 
tury, but in the seventeenth it was regarded as invincible. The 
Prosologium consists of twenty-six short chapters, and has for its 
motto the passage of Scripture : the fool hath said in his heart, there 
is no God. The argument is this : the most hardened atheist has 
in his mind the idea of a Highest Good, beyond which he can con¬ 
ceive no other. Now this supreme good cannot exist merely in the 
mind, for a still greater would be conceivable ; it therefore must 
exist out of the human mind : therefore God exists. Without 
quoting St. Anselm, or the Prosologium , with which he was perhaps 
unacquainted, Descartes has reproduced this argument in his Medi¬ 
tations. Leibnitz has also brought forward the same argument 
under a form at once the most simple and precise. He refers the 
honour of it to St. Anselm. See Cousin’s Cours de l ’ Histoire de la 
Philosophic, Tom. 1. p. 346—348. 

It is needless to remark here upon the value of the argument in 
the form in which it is expressed by St. Anselm. It obviously 
assumes the point in question; it proves nothing except hypothe¬ 
tically, that is to say, if there exist a reality corresponding to the 

2 d 3 


306 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


of nature, and reflect all the imperfections of the argument 
a 'posteriori. Hence, one of two things results : either, 
the Sensual theology receives the rational a priori principle 
of causality, contrary to the spirit of the philosophical school 
to which that theology pertains, and thus arrives at God 
by an inconsistency : or, it rejects the principle of causality, 
and then it does not and cannot arrive at God at all; and 
besides, as Sensualism confounds substance with the aggre¬ 
gate of qualities, (see ch. III.) it could recognise no other 
God than the aggregate of the phenomena of Nature, the 
assemblage of things in the universe. From hence, Pan¬ 
theism, the necessary theology of paganism, and of the 
Sensual philosophy. Let us apply all this to Locke. 

Locke believes in the existence of God, and he has given 
an excellent demonstration of it. But he comes from the 
Sensual school, he therefore repels arguments a priori , 
and admits scarcely anything but arguments a posteriori. 
He does not wish to employ the argument of Descartes, 
which proves the existence of God from the idea of him, 
from the idea of infinity and perfection. B. IY. ch. X. 
§ 7 : “This I think, Imay lsay, that it is an ill way of 
establishing this truth, and silencing Atheists, to lay the 
whole stress of so important a point as this, upon that sole 
foundation ; and take some men’s having that idea of God in 
their minds, (for it is evident that some men have none, 
and some worse than none, and the most very different) 
for the only proof of a Deity ; and out of an over-fondness 
of that darling invention, cashier, or at least endeavour to 
invalidate all other arguments, and forbid us to hearken to 
those proofs, as being weak or fallacious, which our own 
existence and the sensible parts of the universe offer so 


idea in the human mind, that reality must exist out of the human 
mind. 

I cannot but think that there has been a great deal of misdirected 
labour employed in the construction of the so-called demonstrations 
of the divine existence, and that too much importance has been 
given to atheistical objections. It seems to me that the existence 
of God is a necessary conviction. It is found, as a necessary belief, 
in the analysis of the mind; and it is found universally, in the 
minds of all men. It is a revelation which can only be willfully 
denied.—T r.] 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


307 


cogently to our thoughts, that I deem it impossible for a 
considering man to withstand them. For I judge it as 
certain and clear a truth as can anywhere be delivered that 
‘ the invisible things of God are clearly seen from the crea¬ 
tion of the world, being understood by the things that are 
made, even his eternal power and Godhead.’ ” He then 
goes on more particularly to develope this kind of proofs. 
If Locke had wished simply to establish that the argument 
a priori is not the only valid argument, and that the proof 
a posteriori is not to be slighted, I would very willingly 
join with him; but he goes much further, and strays into 
assertions which I cannot too strongly repel. I deny that 
there are persons who have no idea of God ; and here the 
Cartesian philosophy and all ideal philosophy comes well 
in, and proves, beyond reply that the idea of God, being 
at the bottom, that of the infinite, of perception, of unity, 
of absolute existence, cannot but be found, in every man 
whose reason is at all developed. I deny also the sentiment 
which Locke has lent to Bayle—Sensualism to Scepticism 
—that some men have such an idea of God, that they had, 
better have none at all. I deny that it is better to have no 
idea of God than to have an imperfect idea; as if we were 
not imperfect beings, subjected to blend the false with the 
true. If we will have nothing but unmixed truth, very 
little belief would be left to humanity, and very few the¬ 
ories to science. There is not a man at all familiar with 
the history of philosophy, who would reject the truth, be¬ 
cause it should be blended with some errors, or even with 
many errors. And in fine, Locke allows that the greatest 
part of men have an idea of God of some sort. Now, this 
is sufficient for Descartes, who, this sole idea, such as it is, 
being given, would found upon it his proof of the existence 
of God from the idea of God. I remark, finally, that even 
in developing his preference for the argument a posteriori , 
Locke employs frequently, and without hesitation, argu¬ 
ments a priori, ideal, and even somewhat scholastic: § 8. 
“ Something must be from eternity.” § 3. “Nothing can 
produce a being, therefore something eternal.” Although 
he especially seeks God in the external world, he also, ( § 2 
and 3,) with Descartes, goes from man to God. He no- 


308 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


where accepts and uufolds, but everywhere employs the 
principle of causality, without which, indeed, he could 
never take a single step beyond nature and man. As to 
the rest, the sole conclusion, which I wish to deduce from 
these observations, is that the theology of Locke, in repel¬ 
ling the argument a priori , and in employing in preference 
the argument a posteriori still retains and manifests the 
fundamental characteristic of the philosophy of Locke, 
which grounds itself specially, and often even exclusively, 
upon sensible and external experience. 

Here ends this long analysis of the Essay on the Human 
Understanding. It only remains to generalize and reca¬ 
pitulate the partial results we have obtained. 

1. Considered in a most important point of view, in regard 
to Method, the Essay on the Human Understanding has 
this excellence, that psychology is given as the basis of all 
sound philosophy. Locke commences by the study of 
man, of his faculties, and of the phenomena observable in 
consciousness. Thereby he attaches himself to the great 
Cartesian movement and to the genius of modern philoso¬ 
phy. This is the good side of the Method of Locke. 
The bad side is, that instead of observing man, his faculties 
and the phenomena which result from the development of 
his faculties, in their present state, and with the characteris¬ 
tics which these phenomena actually present, he buries 
himself at once in the obscure and perilous question con¬ 
cerning the primitive state of these phenomena, the first 
developments of the faculties, the origin of ideas. 

2. This vice of Method—the question concerning the 
origin of ideas, which ought to come after that of their 
actual characteristics, being prematurely taken up, without 
a sufficient knowledge of the facts to be explained—throws 
Locke into a system which sees no other origin to all know¬ 
ledge and all ideas, than sensation and reflection. 

3. And again, it is to be recollected, that Locke does 
not hold the balance true between these two origins, and 
that he lets it incline in favour of sensation. 

4. This position being taken, to derive all ideas from 
sensation and from reflection, and particularly from sen- 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


309 


sation, imposes upon Locke the necessity of confounding 
certain ideas with certain others, for example, the seven 
following ideas : the idea of space, of time, of the infinite, 
of personal identity, of substance, of cause, of good and 
evil—ideas which, as we have demonstrated, cannot come 
into the human mind from sensation, nor from reflection. 
Locke is therefore forced, in order to make them enter the 
human mind, to confound them with the ideas of body, of 
succession, of the finite or number, of consciousness, of the 
aggregate of qualities, the succession of phenomena, of 
reward and punishment, or pleasure and pain, which are 
in fact explicable by sensation or by reflection; that is to 
say, he is forced to confound either the antecedents or the 
consequents of the ideas of space, time, infinity, substance, 
cause, good and evil, with the ideas themselves. 

5. This is the most general vice which governs the 
philosophy of Locke ; and this vice fully displays itself in 
the theory of knowledge and judgment. Locke founds 
knowledge and judgment upon the perception of a relation 
between two ideas, that is to say, upon comparison; while 
in many cases, these relations and the ideas of relation, so 
far from being the foundation of our judgments and of our 
cognitions, are, on the contrary, the results of primitive 
cognitions and judgments referable to the natural power 
of the mind, which judges and knows in its own proper 
virtue, basing itself frequently upon a single term, and 
consequently without comparing two together in order to 
deduce the ideas of relation. 

6. The same is true in regard to the theory of Language. 
Locke attributes very much to language; and with reason. 
But we are not to believe that every dispute is a dispute 
about words, every error an error purely verbal, every 
general idea the sole product of language, and that a 
science is nothing but a language well framed ;—we are 
not, I say, to believe all this merely because that words 
really play a great part in our disputes and errors, because 
there are no general ideas without language, and because 
a language well framed is the condition, or the consequence 
rather, of a true science. 


310 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


7. In fine, in regard to the great theories, by which all 
philosophies in their last result, are judged, the theories of 
God, of the soul, and of liberty; you have seen Locke 
confounding the Will with the power of moving, with the 
power of producing external action, and seeking for freedom 
in the will thus extended, and consequently seeking where 
it is not, denying it, and giving it as a simple accident, 
whereas it is a proper and essential characteristic. You 
have seen him led by the habit of investigating in everything 
the point of view most external, most visible, the most 
tangible, to advance the suspicion that the spiritual 
substance, impenetrable in its nature, might be reduced 
to material substance, and that thought may be nothing 
but a mode of matter, just as extension.—-You have seen 
him, finally, in theology, always faithful to the spirit of 
his system, depending more upon the senses than upon 
consciousness, interrogating nature rather than reason, 
repelling the proof a'priori of Descartes, and adopting 
scarcely anything than the proof a posteriori. 

Such is my definitive judgment on the work of Locke. 
I trust the length of this examination will not be met with 
disapprobation, when the importance of the work and of 
everything of which it is a summary and a preparation, is 
considered. The Essay on the Human Understanding sums 
up for the eighteenth century, all the traditional philosophy 
in which it had an interest, that is to say, that of the 
seventeenth centuiy. In general, modern philosophy, and 
I except no school, is, to say the least, ignorant and care¬ 
less of the past. It thinks only of the coming ; it is 
unacquainted with its own history. As the Ideal school of 
the eighteenth century ascends no further than Descartes, 
so the Sensual school scarcely goes back further than Locke. 
It has scarcely regarded Bacon; it is a little occupied with 
Hobbes and Gassendi; but its official point of departure 
is Locke. It is Locke who is always cited and imitated and 
developed. And in fact, now that you are acquainted with 
the Essay on the Human Understanding in its foundation, 
as a whole, and in its details, you must see that it really 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


311 


contains the most marked traits of all the great anterior 
sensual theories, whether of modern philosophy, or of the 
Middle age, of Greece, or of the East.* 

The essential characteristic of Sensualism, as we have v 
seen, is the denial of all the great general truths which 
escape the senses, and which reason alone discovers, the 
negation of infinite time and space, of good and evil, of 
human liberty, of the immateriality of the soul, and of 
Divine Providence ; and according to the times, or the 
greater or less zeal of its partisans, it openly announces 
these results, or veils them be the distinction, sometimes 
sincere, and sometimes pretended, between philosophy and 
religion. This is the sole difference which, in the seven - j 
teenth century, separates Gassendi, the Catholic priest, from 
Hobbes, the enemy of the Church. At the bottom their 
system is the same ; they renew in their persons, the one 
Epicurus, the other Democritus; they give an almost ex¬ 
clusive share to sensation in knowledge ; they nearly 
maintain that all being is material, ( substantia nobis datur 
sub ratione materice ; ) in spiritual beliefs they see nothing 
but metaphors; and, beyond the senses, they attribute 
everything to signs and to language: after all this, Gassendi 
invokes revelation, and Hobbes invokes it not. In the 
sixteenth century, the appeal to revelation, was indispen¬ 
sable ; it characterizes, and it hardly saves the Peripatetic 
Sensualism of Pomponatius and his school. Previous to 
that time, during the absolute reign of Christianity, this 
precaution was still more necessary; it hardly protected the 
involved Sensualism and the avowed Nominalism of Occam; 
and Sensualism dared scarcely show itself in Dun Scotus, 
except by the negation of absolute truth in itself, that is by 
denying right and wrong, the beautiful and ugly, the true 
and false, in so far as founded in the nature of things, and 
by explaining them by the sole will and arbitrary power 
of God. Now, all these traits of Sensualism, manifest or 
concealed, of the middle age, and of the sixteenth and 

* [Reference is here had to a rapid view of the history of philoso¬ 
phy down to the time of Locke, exhibited in the preceding portion 
of the course of lectures, of which this work is a part. Some 
account of them has been given in the Introduction.— Tr.] 


312 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


seventeenth centuries, are reproduced in Locke. Who 
cannot see, likewise, in the bosom of paganism, the pre¬ 
cursors of Gassendi and Hobbes, and consequently of 
Locke, in Epicurus* in Strato, in Democritus and in the 
Ionian school P In fine, in certain Oriental systems, and 
particularly the Sankhyra of Kapila,* in the midst of incon¬ 
sistencies apparent or real, and of mysticism true or false, 
similar, perhaps, to much of the modem invocation of 
revelation, who does not trace the lineaments of that theory 
which, increasing and clearing up, and sharing in all the 
progress of humanity, came, towards the commencement of 
the eighteenth century, to receive its expression, not indeed 
full and decisive, but already elevated and truly scientific 
expression, in the Essay on the Human Understanding ? 

And not only does the Essay on the Human Under¬ 
standing include and sum up the past, but it also contained 
the future. All those theories, the discussion of which has 
so long occupied us, and which, as they appear in Locke, 
may have perplexed you by their equivocal character, will 
be seen, as we proceed,f in less than half a century to 
become enlarged, extended, and regularly unfolded by the 

♦[See Cousin’s Cours de V Histoire de la Philosophic, Vol. I. § 5. 
The sources from which Cousin principally drew, are the Memoirs 
of Colebrooke, published in the Transactions of the London Asiatic 
Society, from 1824 to 1827.— The Sankhyra is an oriental system, 
embracing physics, psychology, dialectics and metaphysics,—in 
short, a complete philosophy. The meaning of Sankhyra is \6yos 
reason. Its author is Kapila. It is a system of Sensualism ; starting 
from Sensation as the principle of knowledge, and applying in¬ 
duction only to its phenomena, it results in materialism. Denying 
also the idea of cause, it comes out to fatalism and to atheism. Nor 
is this latter consequence disguised. Kapila denies the existence of 
a personal God and of Providence, on the ground, that not being 
perceivable by the senses, nor deducible from sensation by induction, 
there is no legitimate ground for these truths. Intelligence is ad¬ 
mitted ; but only as an attribute of matter, and the God of Kapila 
is a sort of anima mundi , or soul of the world.— Tr.] 

f [It was the intention of Cousin, as has been observed in a for¬ 
mer note, to pursue the progress of the system of Locke, to its 
legitimate results and last expression, in his successors, such as 
Condillac, Helvetius, La Mettrie and Holbach.—The reader will of 
course understand that the anticipated results of that examination, 
spoken of in the future tense, are facts which have long been matter 
of history in philosophy.— Tr.] 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


313 


hardy successors of Locke, into firm and precise theories, 
which will obtain, in more than one great country of Europe 
an almost absolute authority, and be there regarded as the 
last expression of the human mind. Thus the theory of 
Locke concerning Freedom tended to fatalism; this theory 
will come forth fully developed. Locke seems not to have 
had much dread of Materialism; his disciples will admit 
and proclaim it. Soon, the principle of causality, being 
no longer merely overlooked and neglected, but repelled and 
destroyed, the argument a 'posteriori for the existence of 
God, will lose its basis, and the indecisive physical Theism 
of Locke’s Sensualism, will end in avowed Pantheism, that 
is to say, in Atheism. The two sources of knowledge, 
sensation and reflection, will be resolved into one; reflection 
will be merged in sensation; there will remain only sensa¬ 
tion to explain the whole human mind.—Signs r whose- 
influence Locke had already exaggerated, wilTbSsine next 
after sensation, the source of all ideas. In a word, you 
may expect hereafter to see, how important it was for us to • 
throw at the outset a strong and abundant light upon all 
those questions and theories, which gradually rising up, 
will become the battle ground of our future discussions, 

It was necessary to reconnoitre beforehand, and familiarize 
you with the field, on which we shall have so often to 
engage. 

I have [in former discussions] divided the schools of the 
eighteenth century into four fundamental schools, which 
have appeared to me to contain them all. I have loved to 
tell you, that each of these schools has existed; therefore 
there was some ground for its existence. If these schools 
had been already absurd and extravagant they could not 
have existed. For total absurdity alone could not have 
found either place or credit in the human mind, could not 
have gained so much eclat , nor have acquired so much 
authority, in any age, still less in an age so enlightened as 
the eighteenth century. Thus, from the simple fact, that 
the Sensual school has existed, it follows that it had reason 
for its existence, that it possesses some element of truth. 
But there are four schools, and not merely one. Now 
absolute truth is one; if one of these schools contained, 

2 E 


314 


ELEMENTS OP PSYCHOLOGY. 


absolute truth, there would be but one school and not four 
But they are; therefore there is reason for their being, and 
they contain truth; but at the same time there are four; 
therefore neither the one nor the other contains the whole 
truth entire, and each of them, with an element of truth which 
has caused it to exist, contains some element of e rror which 
reduces it, after all, to exist only as a partic ular school. 
And recollect that error, in the hands of systematic genius, 
easily becomes extravagance. It was my duty, then, at 
once to absolve and to combat all the schools; and con¬ 
sequently that great school which is called the Sensual 
ischool, the school of Sensation, from the name of the prin¬ 
ciple on which it solely rests. 1 was to absolve the school 
of Sensation, as having had its part of truth ; and I was 
to combat it, as having blended with the part of truth, which 
recommended it, many errors and extravagances. And in 
what way, was I to combat the school of Sensation ? I 
promised you to combat the errors of one school, by all 
the truth there was in the opposite school. I was, then, 
•to combat the exaggerations of Sensualism, with what there 
is of sound and reasonable in Idealism. This I have done. 

I have combatted the Essay on the Human Understanding 
with arguments, which I have not always cared, by an 
untimely show of erudition, to refer in detail to their respec¬ 
tive authors; but which I avow, belong not to me. Per¬ 
haps there is something of my own, if I may be permitted 
to say it, in the development of these arguments, and in 
the conduct of the discussion, and above all in its general 
spirit, and in some sort, its moral spirit. But the argu¬ 
ments in themselves, pertain for the most part to the Spirit-'? 
ual school in its most reasonable, that is to say, its negative 
side, which is always the soundest part of every school. 
At a future day, I shall take up the Spiritual school; I 
shall examine it in its positive elements, and there I shall 
turn against it, against its sublime errors and its mystical 
tendencies, the solid arms which the good sense of Empiri¬ 
cism and of Scepticism will frequently furnish. In the 
^ mean time, it is with the dialectics of Spiritualism, that I 
have combatted the extravagances of the Empirical school, j 
as they appear in Locke, the representative of that school 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


315 


in the eighteenth century. It is not, however, Ancient 
Idealism which I have invoked against modern Empiricism; 
for the one does not answer the other; Ancient philosophy, 
and Modern philosophy do not serve each other and en¬ 
lighten each other, except on the highest summits of sci¬ 
ence, and for a very small number of the elect thinkers. It 
'i is therefore modern Spiritualism which I have used against 
modern Empiricism; I have employed against it in the 
eighteenth century, the arms which the eighteenth century 
itself furnished. Thus I have opposed to Locke the great 
men who followed him, and who, having followed him, were 
to modify and combat, in order to pass beyond him, and 
lead onward the march of science. It is not therefore 
even from Leibnitz, who is too far back, but from Reid and / 
Kant, that I have borrowed arguments. But I have had 
almost always to change the form of them ; for their form 
savours a little of the country of those two great men. Both 
express themselves, as men talk at Edinburgh and at Kon- 
igsburg; which is not the way in which men express them¬ 
selves in France. I have therefore neglected the phraseology 
of Reid, and particularly of Kant; but I have preserved 
the substance of their arguments. You are not acquainted 
with Kant; one day I shall endeavour to make you 
acquainted with that mind, so powerful, so deep and sharp¬ 
thinking, and so elevated,—the Descartes of the age. But 
the works of the judicious Reid are accessible to you, with 
the admirable commentary of Royer-Collard.* The Scotch -' 
philosophy [of Reid and Stewart] will prepare you for the 
German philosophy. It is to Reid and Kant I refer in 
great part the controversy I have carried on against Em¬ 
piricism as represented in the person of Locke. 

I w r as also to be just towards the Empirical school ; 
while combatting it, I was to take up its part of truth as 
well as of error. Have I not also done this ? I have re¬ 
cognised and signalized everything good in different parts 
of the Essay on the Understanding. I have carefully 
brought out the happy commencement of Locke’s Method, 

* Oeuvres completes de Re=d avec les lepous de M. Royer- 
Collard, par M. Jouffroy. 6 vols 

2 e 2 


316 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


and explained his theories, before attacking the errors into 
which the spirit of system threw him. Finally, I have 
rendered fall homage to Locke as a man and a philosopher. 
I have done this with all my heart; for, in fact, philosophy 
is not such or such a particular school, but it is the com¬ 
mon foundation, and so to say, the life of all schools. It 
is distinct from all systems, but it is blended with all ; for 
it manifests, develops, and advances itself only by them. 
Its union is even their variety, so discordant in appearance, 
and in reality so profoundly harmonious. Its progress and 
its glory, is their mutual perfectionment by reciprocal 
pacific counteraction. When we attack, without qualifi¬ 
cation, any considerable particular school, we proscribe 
unawares some real element of the human mind and of 
truth, and philosophy itself is in some part wounded. 
When we do undiscriminating outrage to the work of a cele¬ 
brated philosopher, to whatever school he may belong, we 
outrage philosophy, reason, and human nature itself, in the 
person of one of its choicest representatives. I trust that 
nothing of this kind will ever come from me ; for what, 
before all things, I profess to teach, is not such or such a 
philosophy, but philosophy itself; not attachment to such 
or such a system, however grand it may be ; not the 
admiration of particular men, whatever their genius ; but 
the philosophic spirit, superior to all systems and all philoso¬ 
phies, the boundless love of truth wherever it may be met; 
the knowledge of all systems which, pretending to contain 
all the truth, at least contain something of the truth, and 
respect for all men who seek for it with talent and loyalty. 
The true muse of the historian of philosophy is not Hatred 
but Love ; and the mission of philosophical criticism is, not 
merely to signalize the extravagances, too real and too 
numerous, of philosophical systems, but also, to disengage 
from the folds of error, the truths which may and must be 
involved iu them, and thereby to absolve philosophy in the 
past, to embolden and enlighten it for the future. 


THE END. 


FROM 


COUSIN’S PHILOSOPHICAL FEAGMENTS, ETC. 




■ 



' 



■ 














311? 


ADDITIONAL PIECES. 


I. 

Classification of Philosophical Questions and 
Schools. 

The preliminary question of all philosophy is that of the 
classification of philosophical questions. 

The first law of a classification is, that it should be 
complete, embracing all questions, general and particular, 
both those which present themselves immediately, and those 
which must be sought for in the depths of science—in 
short all questions that are known and all that are pos¬ 
sible. 

The second law of a classification is, that it should 
establish the relation of all the questions which it enumerates 
and describe with precision the order in which each ques¬ 
tion should be treated. Now when I reflect upon all the 
questions that have occupied my own mind; when I 
compare them with those that have occupied all philoso¬ 
phers ; when I interrogate both books and myself; and 
above all, when I consult the nature of the human mind— 
reason as well as experience seems to me to reduce all the 
problems of philosophy to a very small number of general 
problems whose character is determined by the general 
aspect under which philosophy, or more particularly meta¬ 
physics, presents itself to my mind. 

2 F 2 



320 


ELEMENTS.OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


Philosophy, it appears to me, is only the science of' 
human nature considered in the facts which it offers to our 
observation. Among these facts, there are those which 
refer more especially to the intelligence, and are therefore 
commonly called metaphysical. Metaphysical facts—the 
phenomena by which the intelligence displays itself—when 
reduced to general formulas, constitute intellectual prin¬ 
ciples. Metaphysics is therefore the study of the intelligence 
in that of our intellectual principles. 

Intellectual principles present themselves under two 
aspects; either as relative to the intelligence in which they 
exist, to the subject that possesses them, to the consciousness 
and reflection which exercises and contemplates them,—or 
as relative to their objects , that is, no longer as in them¬ 
selves and in ourselves, but in their consequences and 
external applications. Every intellectual principle indeed 
has reference to the human mind; and at the same time 
that it refers itself to the human mind as the subject of all 
knowledge and all consciousness, it likewise has respect to 
objects as existing out of the mind that conceives them ; 
or to adopt those celebrated expressions, so convenient 
from their conciseness, precision, and force, every intellectual 
principle is either subjective or objective , or subjective and 
objective at the same time. There is no principle, no 
knowledge, no idea, no perception, no sensation, which 
does not come under this general division,—a division 
which includes and divides, at the outset, all the problems 
of philosophy into two great classes ; problems relative to 
subject , and problems relative to object; or to speak more 
briefly, subjective problems, and objective problems. 

Let us unfold this general division, and deduce from it 
the particular questions which it contains. Let us examine 
first the intellectual principles, independently of the external 
consequences that may be derived from them. Let us de¬ 
velop the science of the subjective. 

This science is that of the internal world. It is the 
science of the me, a science entirely distinct from that of 
the objective , which is, properly speaking, the science of the 
not-me. And this science of the me is not a romance 
concerning the nature of the soul, its origin, and its end; 


APPENDIX. 


321 


it is the true history of the soul, written by reflection, at 
the dictation of consciousness and memory. It is the 
mind falling back upon itself, and contemplating the spec¬ 
tacle presented by itself. It is occupied entirely with 
internal facts, phenomena perceptible and appreciable by 
consciousness. I call it psychology, or, again, phenomenology 
in order to mark the nature of its objects. Now, in spite 
of the difficulties which a being thrown at first beyond 
himself—and constantly drawn to the outward world by 
the wants of his sensibility and his reason—has to encounter 
in the process of reflection; yet this science, entirely sub¬ 
jective as it is, is not above man, not beyond the reach of 
human nature. It is certain, for it is immediate. The me, 
and that with which it is occupied, are both contained in 
the same sphere, in the unity of consciousness. There the 
object of science is entirely internal; it is perceived intui¬ 
tively by the subject. The subject and the object are given, 
intimately connected the one with the other. All the facts 
of consciousness are evident of themselves, as soon as 
consciousness attains them; but they frequently escape its 
grasp, by their extreme delicacy, or from being developed 
in others foreign to themselves. Psychology gives the 
most perfect certainty: but this certainty is found only at 
a depth which it belongs not to all eyes to penetrate. To 
arrive there, it is necessary to abstract one’s self from the 
world of extension and of form in which we have lived so 
long, and whose colours now tinge all our thoughts and 
language. It is necessary also to abstract one’s self from 
the external world of being and of the absolute, which is 
even more difficult to remove than the former; that is to 
say, abstract one’s self from an integral part of thought 
itself, for in all thought there is being and the absolute ; and, 
again, it is necessary to separate and distinguish thought 
without mutilating it, to disengage the phenomena of 
consciousness, both from the ontological notions which 
naturally envelop them, and from the logical forms which, 
in the developed intelligence, repress and restrain them ; 
and to do this without falling into mere abstractions. In 
fine, after having established our position in this world 
of consciousness, so delicate and shifting, it is necessary to 


322 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


make a wide and profound review of all the phenomena 
comprehended in it; for, here, phenomena are the ele¬ 
ments of science. We must be sure of having omitted 
no element, otherwise the science will be incomplete. 
We must be sure of having taken none upon supposition. 
We must be careful that we omit no real element, that 
we admit no foreign element, and, finally, that we view 
all the real elements in their true aspect, and in all the 
aspects which they present. When this preliminary labour 
has put us in possession of all the elements of science, 
it remains to construct the science, by bringing these ele¬ 
ments together, by combining them, so as to exhibit them 
all in the different classes to which they would fall, and 
which result from their different characteristics, just as the 
naturalist arranges the varieties of the vegetable and 
mineral world, under a certain number of divisions which 
comprehend them all. 

Z This done, all is not yet done ; the science of the subject 
tive is not yet exhausted; the greatest difficulties remain 
to be overcome. We have recognised the internal world, 
the phenomena of consciousness, as consciousness at the 
present time displays them. We know the actual man, 
but we are still ignorant of primitive man. It is not 
enough for the human mind to contemplate the analytical 
inventory of its cognitions, arranged under their respective 
titles. The unwearied curiosity of man cannot rest in these 
careful classifications; it goes on after higher problems, 
which at once daunt and attract it, which charm and defy 
it. We seem not lawfully to possess present reality, until 
we have obtained the primitive truth; and we ascend 
continually to the origin of our cognitions, as to the source 
of all light. With the question of the origin of knowledge a 
new question springs up, as difficult, perhaps more difficult. 
It is the question concerning the relation of the primitive 
to the ictual. It is not enough to know where we now 
are, an 1 from whence we started; we must know all the 
road b which we arrived at the point where we now find 
ourselv >.s. This third question is the complement of the 
two oth *s. Here the whole problem is solved, the science 
pf the subjective is truly exhausted ; for when we have the 


APPENDIX. . 


323 


two extreme points and the intermediate space, nothing- 
more remains to be asked. 

Let us now consider the intellectual principles as 
relative to their external objects. 

A strange thing this ! A being perceives and knows, 
out of his own sphere; he is nothing but himself, and 
yet he knows something that is not himself. His own 
existence is, for himself, nothing but his own individuality ; 
and yet from the bosom of this individual world which he 
inhabits and which he constitutes, he attains to a world 
foreign to his own, and that, by powers which, altogether 
internal and personal as they are in reference to the 
subject in which they inhere, extend beyond its boundary, 
and discover to him things lying beyond his reflection and 
his consciousness. That the mind of man is provided 
with these wonderful powers, no one can doubt; but is 
their reach and application legitimate? and does that 
which they reveal really exist ? The intellectual principles 
have an incontestable authority in the internal world of 
the subject; but are they equally valid in reference to 
their external objects ? 

This is eminently the objective problem. Now, as 
everything which lies out of the consciousness is objective, 
and as all real and substantial existences are external to 
the consciousness, which is exercised only upon internal 
phenomena, it follows, that every problem relating to any 
particular being, or in general implying the question of 
existence, is an objective problem. Finally, as the prob¬ 
lem of the legitimacy of the means we have of knowing 
anything objective, whatever it be, is the problem concern¬ 
ing the legitimacy of the means we have of knowing in an 
absolute manner, (since the absolute is that which is not 
relative to the me, which refers to being in general) it fol¬ 
lows, that the problem concerning the legitimacy, and the 
validity, of all external, objective, and ontological know¬ 
ledge, is the problem concerning absolute knowledge. 
The problem concerning the Absolute, constitutes the 
Higher Logic. 

When we are assured of the validity of our means of 
knowing in an absolute manner, we apply these means to 


324 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


some object, that is, to some particular being; and we 
raise the question concerning the reality of the substantial 
me of the soul which conceives, but does not perceive itself, 
and of that extended and figured substance which we call 
matter , and of that Supreme Being, the last ground of all 
beings, of all external objects and of the subject itself, 
likewise, who rises to him— God. 

At length, after these problems relative to the existence 
of different particular objects, come up those which pertain 
to the modes and characteristics of this existence ; problems 
superior to all others, since, if it is strange that the in¬ 
dividual intelligence should know that there are existences 
out of its own sphere, it is still more strange that it should 
know what passes in spheres beyond its own existence and 
consciousness. 

These special researches constitute the Higher Meta¬ 
physics, the science of the objective, of essence, of the 
invisible ; for all essence, everything that is objective, is 
invisible to consciousness. 

Let us recapitulate. The objective problems divide 
themselves into two great problems, the one logical, the 
other metaphysical; namely, the problem of the absolute, 
the question concerning the reality of the existence of any¬ 
thing objective; and the question concerning the reality of 
the existence of different particular objects. Add to these 
two objective questions the three questions involved in the 
general question concerning the subjective , and you have all 
the questions of metaphysics. There is none which will 
not fall within this general frame-work. We have there¬ 
fore satisfied the first law of classification. Let us endeavour 
to satisfy the second, and to ascertain the order in which 
it is proper to examine each question. 

Let us first consider the two problems which contain all 
the others, that of the subject, and that of the object. 

Whether the object exists or not, it is obvious that it 
exists for 11s only as it is manifested to us by the subject; 
and if it is maintained that the subject and the object are 
actually and primitively given us, the one with the other, it 
must always be admitted that, in this natural relation, the 
term which knows, should be considered, as in truth it is, 


APPENDIX. 


325 


the fundamental element of the relation. It is, therefore, 
with the subject that we are to commence. It is ourselves 
we are first to know ; for we know nothing but in our¬ 
selves, and by ourselves. It is not ourselves who move 
around the external world, it is rather the external world 
which moves around us; or if these two spheres have each 
their proper motions, and are merely correlative, we know 
not the fact, except as one of them teaches it to us. It 
is thereby, always, that we are to gain the knowledge of 
everything, even the existence, and the independent exis¬ 
tence of the other. 

We are, then, to commence with the subject, with the 
me, with consciousness. 

But the question concerning the subjective, involves in 
itself three others. With which of these are we to com¬ 
mence ? In the first place, one of these questions consists 
in determining the relation of the other two, the relation 
of the primitive to the actual. It is clear that this cannot 
be treated, until after the other two. It remains to deter¬ 
mine the order of the other two. Now a strict method will 
not hesitate to place the actual before the primitive; for, by 
commencing with the primitive, we might obtain only a 
false primitive, which, in deduction, would give only an 
hypothetical actual, whose relation to the primitive would 
be only the relation of two hypotheses, more or less con¬ 
sistent. In commencing with the primitive, if a mistake 
is made, all is lost; the science of the subjective is falsified, 
and what then will become of the objective ? Besides, com¬ 
mencing with the primitive, is to start with one of the 
most obscure and embarrassing problems, without guide 
and without light; whereas, to begin with the actual, is 
to begin with the easiest question, with the one which 
serves as the introduction to all the others. On every 
hand, experience and the experimental method have been 
celebrated as the triumph of the age, and the genius of our 
epoch. The experimental method, in Psychology, is to 
begin with the actual, to exhaust it, if possible ; to take a 
strict account of all the principles which now actually 
govern the intelligence; to admit only those which actually 
present themselves, but of those to reject none; to ask 


326 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 

none of them from whence they come, or where they go,— 
it is enough that they are actually present in nature, they 
must have a place in science. No arbitrary judgment is to. 
be passed upon facts, no systematic control. We are to 
be contented to register them, one with another; nor are 
we to be in any haste to torture them, in order to force 
from them some premature theory. We are to wait patiently, 
until their number is complete, their relations unfolded, and 
the theory comes forth of itself. 

If we pass now from the subjective to the objective, and 
if we investigate tiie order of the two questions of which the 
objective is composed, it is easy to see that the logical ques¬ 
tion is to be treated before the metaphysical, the problem 
of the absolute and of existence in general before that of 
particular existences; for the solution, whatever it be, of 
the first problem, is the principle of the second. 

Here then are the laws of classification satisfied; the 
framework of philosophy divided and arranged : now who 
will build and fill it up ? 

In the first place, lias there hitherto been a philosopher 
who has done this ? If there were, there would be a meta¬ 
physical science, just as there is a geometry and a chem¬ 
istry.—But have not philosophers at least distinguished 
these different parts, if they have not filled them up? 
Have they not sketched the outlines and proportions of the 
edifice, if they have not yet been able to realize it ? If 
this were the case, there would be a science commenced, a 
route opened, a method fixed.—But if philosophers have 
done neither of these, what have they done? A few 
words will explain. 

The first philosophers have treated everything and re¬ 
solved everything, but it is confusedly; they have treated 
everything, but without method, or with arbitrary and 
artificial methods. There is not a metaphysical problem 
which has not been agitated in every form and analyzed in 
a thousand ways by the philosophers of Greece, and by the 
Italian metaphysicians of the sixteenth century ; neverthe¬ 
less, neither the former, with their wonderful genius, nor 
the latter, with all their sagacity, could discover or settle 
the true limits of each problem, its relations, and its extent. 


APPENDIX. 


327 


Ho philosopher previous to Descartes has laid down pre¬ 
cisely and distinctly the very first problem of philosophy, 
the distinction between the subject and the object; this 
distinction was scarcely anything but a scholastic and 
grammatical distinction, which the successors of Aristotle 
vainly agitated without being able to deduce anything from 
it, but consequence of the same kind as their principle, 
grammatical consequences which, passing from grammar 
into logic and from thence into metaphysics, corrupted in¬ 
tellectual science and filled it with empty verbal arguments. 
Descartes himself, notwithstanding the strength and acute¬ 
ness of his mind, did not penetrate the whole extent of this 
distinction; his glory consists in having made it and hav¬ 
ing placed the true starting-point of philosophical investi¬ 
gations in the consciousness, in the me ; but he was not so 
much aware as he should have been of the abyss that 
separates the subject from the object; and after having- 
laid down the problem, this great man resolved it far too 
hastily.—It was reserved for the eighteenth century to ap¬ 
ply and extend the spirit of the Cartesian philosophy, and 
to produce three schools which, instead of losing themselves 
in external and objective investigations, began by an 
examination, more or less strict, more or less profound, of 
the human mind itself and its faculties. It belonged to 
the greatest philosopher of the last age, by the very title of 
his own philosophy to mark the characteristic of modern 
philosophy. The system of Kant is called the Critical 
Philosophy (Kritik). The other two European schools, 
the one anterior, the other contemporaneous, the school of 
Locke and the school of Eeid, are both far below the 
school of Kant, by the inferiority of the genius of their 
masters and by the inferiority of their doctrines, and both 
very different from each other in their principles and in 
their consequences, yet both belong to the school of Kant, 
and are intimately connected with each other by the spirit 
of criticism and analysis by which they are recommended. 
If the analysis of Eeid is stricter and more extended than 
that of Locke, we must not forget that he had the advan¬ 
tage of all the light which the works written in the system 
of Locke shed upon that system ; and we should beware of 


328 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


injustice towards Locke, and particularly we should guard 
against being unjust to Descartes the founder of the modern 
philosophy. 

But much as the three great schools of Europe are allied 
in the general spirit that animates them, they differ as 
much in their positive principles; and the reason of this 
difference is the particular point of view under which each 
of these schools has considered philosophy. All philoso¬ 
phical questions being reducible to three great questions, 
in regard to the objective, to the question concerning the 
absolute and the reality of existences, in regard to the sub¬ 
jective, to that of the actual, and that of the primitive, the 
weakness of the human mind, which is seen in the strongest 
intellects, did not permit Locke, and Reid, and Kant to 
bestow their attention equally upon these three questions. 
It was directed respectively to one. Locke, Reid, and Kant 
took each a different question ; so that by a fortune suffi¬ 
ciently remarkable, each of the three great questions which 
make up metaphysics became the special object and the 
exclusive possession of one of the three great schools of the 
eighteenth century. The school of Locke seeks after the 
origin of knowledge [the subjective primitive'] ; the Scotch 
school of Reid seeks rather after the actual characteristics 
which human knowledge presents in the developed intelli¬ 
gence [ the subjective actual] ; and the school of Kant is 
occupied with the legitimacy of the passage from the sub¬ 
jective to the objective [the objective logical — transcenden¬ 
tal logic]. Let me explain: I do not mean to say that 
each of these three schools has taken up but a single prob¬ 
lem ; I mean that each of them is more especially occupied 
with a particular problem, and is eminently characterized 
by the mode in which that problem is resolved. All the 
world is agreed that Locke has misconceived many of the 
actual characteristics of human knowledge ; Reid does not 
conceal that the question of their origin is of little import¬ 
ance in his view ; and Kant contents himself with indicating 
in general the source of human knowledge, without inves¬ 
tigating the special origin of each of those intellectual 
principles, those celebrated categories which he established. 
Now it seems to me that in following this parallel division 


APPENDIX. 


329 


of the questions and schools of philosophy, the history of 
philosophy might be viewed under a new aspect. In the 
three great modern schools we might study the three great 
philosophical questions ; each of these three schools, partial 
and incomplete in itself, might be extended and enlarged 
by the vicinity of the others ; opposed, they would reveal 
their relative imperfections; brought together, they would 
mutually supply what each one is deficient in. It would 
be an interesting and instructive spectacle to show the vices 
of the modern schools by engaging them one against the 
other, and to bring together their several merits into one 
vast central Eclecticism which should combine and com¬ 
plete all three. The Scottish philosophy would demonstrate 
the vices of the philosophy of Locke ; Locke would serve 
to question Keid on the subjects which he has too much 
neglected ; and the examination of the system of Kant 
would introduce us into t he depths of a problem which has 
escaped both the other schools. 


II. 

Extracts from the Preface to the Philo¬ 
sophical Fragments, First Edition, 1826. 

A system is scarcely anything but the development of a 
method applied to certain objects. Nothing therefore is 
more important than to ascertain and determine, in the first 
place, the method which we wish to pursue; to give an 
account to ourselves of our good and our bad impulses and 
of the direction in which they impel us, and to which we 
must know whether or not we mean to consent; for our 
philosophy, like our destiny, must necessarily be our own. 
Undoubtedly, we should borrow it from truth and the ne¬ 
cessity of things; but we ought also to receive it freely, 
with a perfect comprehension of what we borrow and what 
we receive. Philosophy, whether speculative or practical, 

2 G 



330 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY, 

is the alliance of necessity and liberty in the mind of the 
man, who spontaneously places himself in harmony with 
the laws of universal existence. The end is in the Infinite, 
but the point of departure is in ourselves. Open the books 
of history: every philosopher who has respected his fellow-, 
men, and who has not wished to offer them merely the 
indefinite results of certain dreams, has begun with the 
consideration of method. Every doctrine which has exer¬ 
cised any influence/ has done so, and could do so only by 
the new direction which it has given to the mind, by the 
new point of view in which it has presented the subjects 
of inquiry, that is to say, by its method. Every philoso¬ 
phical reform has its avowed or secret principle in a change. 

or in an advancement of method. 

It is an incontestable fact that in England and Erance in 
the eighteenth century, Locke and Condillac supplanted 
the great schools of a previous date, and have reigned 
without contradiction to the present day. Instead of 
being irritated at this fact, we should endeavour to com¬ 
prehend it; for after all, facts do not create themselves ; 
they have their laws which are connected with the general 
laws of the human race. If the philosophy of sensation 
actually gained credit in England and Erance, there must 
have been some reason for this fact. Now this reason, 
when we come to reflect upon it, does honour and not 
discredit to the human mind. It was not its fault, if it 
could not remain in the shackles of Cartesianism; for it 
belonged to Cartesianism to protect it, to satisfy all the 
conditions which can perpetuate a system. In the general 
movement of affairs and the progress of time, the spirit of 
analysis and observation was also to have its place ; and 
this place it found in the eighteenth century. The spirit of 
the eighteenth century needs no apology. The apology 
for a century is the fact of its existence ; for its existence 
is a decree and a judgment of God himself; or else history 
is nothing but an insignificant phantasmagoria. The 
modem spirit is often accused of incredulity and skepticism, 
but it is skeptical only with regard to what it does not 
understand, incredulous only concerning what it cannot 
believe ; that is to say, the condition of understanding and 



APPENDIX. 


331 


of believing, at that epoch, as at many former epochs, 
having been changed for the human race, it was indis¬ 
pensable, on pain of surrendering its independence, that it 
should impose new conditions on everything which aspired 
to govern its intelligence and its faith. Faith is neither 
exhausted nor diminished. The human race, like the 
individual, lives only by faith; but the conditions of faith, 
however, are constantly renewed. In the eighteenth century, 
the general condition of comprehending and of believing 
was that of having observed the object; from that time, 
all philosophy which aspired to authority must needs be 
founded on observation. Now, Cartesianism, especially 
with the modifications which it had received from Male- 
branche, Spinoza, Leibnitz, and Wolf,—-Cartesianism, 
which in the second stage of its progress, abandons observa¬ 
tion and loses itself in ontological hypotheses and scholastic 
formulas, could liot pretend to the character of experimental 
philosophy. Another system was presented in this character, 
and in this character, it was accepted. Such is the 
explanation of the fall of Cartesianism, and the success of 
the philosophy of Locke and Condillac. If we reflect for 
a moment on the subject, the success of this meagre 
philosophy still testifies to the dignity and independence 
of the human mind, which forsakes in its turn the systems 
which forsake it, and pursues its path even through the most 
deplorable errors, rather than not advance at all. It did not 
adopt the philosophy of sensation on account of its Mate¬ 
rialism ; but on account of its experimental character, which 
to a certain degree it actually possessed. The favour with 
which this philosophy was received did not come from its 
dogmas, but from its method; and this method was not 
its own, but that of the age. And it is true that the 
experimental method was the necessary fruit of time, and 
not the transient work of a sect in England and France; 
and if we calmly examine the contemporary schools, the 
most opposed to that of sensation, we shall find the same 
pretensions to observation and experience. Eeid and Kant, 
in Scotland and in Germany, engaged in conflict against, 
and utterly overthrew, the doctrine of Locke; but with 
what weapons ? With those of Locke himself; with the 
2 g 2 


332 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


experimental method differently applied. Eeid starts from 
the human mind and its faculties, which he analyzes in 
their actual operation, arid the laws of which he determines. 
Kant, separating reason from all its objects, and considering, 
if I may so speak, only its interior, gives a profound and 
exquisite statistical account of it; his philosophy is a 
Critique; it is always that of observation and experience. 
Make the tour of Europe and of the world, you will every¬ 
where find the same spirit, the same method; and this in 
fact constitutes the unity of the age, since this unity presents 

itself in the midst of the most striking diversities. 

To be limited to observation and experience is to be 
limited to human nature; for we observe only with our¬ 
selves, in proportion to our faculties and their laws. We 
are then limited to human nature. But what else would 
we have ? If the observation which goes as far as human 
nature can go, does not suffice for the attainment of all 
truths and all convictions, and for the completion of the 
whole circle of science, the evil is certainly not in the 
method which limits us to our natural means of knowledge, 
but in the weakness of those means and of our nature 
from which we cannot escape. In fact, whatever method 
we may adopt, it is always ourselves who have made it or 
who employ it; it is always with ourselves that we act; 
it is always human nature which, appearing to forget itself, 
is always present, which does everything that is done or 
attempted, even apparently beyond its power. Either we 
must despair of science, or human nature is competent 
to attain it. Observation, that is, human nature accepted 
as the sole instrument of discovery, is competent, when 
properly employed, or nothing is competent; for we 
have nothing else, and our predecessors had no more. Let 
us study the systems on which time has passed sentence ; 
what has it destroyed ? What could it destroy ? The 
hypothetical part of those systems. But what gave life and 
coherence to those hypotheses ? Merely certain truths which 
had been discovered by observation, which observation now 
discovers, and which still possess, for that reason, the same 
certainty and the same novelty as heretofore. What has 
raised so high and yet sustains the numbers, of Pythagoras, 



APPENDIX. 


333 


the ideas of Plato, the categories of Aristotle ? A fact no 
less real at this moment than it was in antiquity, namely, 
that there are real elements in intelligence which the 
acquisitions of the senses alone cannot explain. What has 
produced the vision in God of Malebranche, and the pre- 
established harmony of Leibnitz ? Pacts again;—the fact 
that there is not a single cognition which does not suggest 
to our minds the notion of existence, that is to say, of God; 
the fact that our intelligence and our sensibility, though 
inseparable, are distinct, that each has its independent laws 
by which it is governed, but that these laws have their 
secret relations and harmony. If we thus examine the 
most celebrated hypotheses we shall perceive that even when 
they are lost in the clouds, their root is here below in some 
fact, real in itself; and that it is by this fact, that they 
have been established and brought into credit among men. 
Every unmingled error is incomprehensible and inadmissi¬ 
ble. It is only by its relation with the truth that it is 
sustained. It is impossible for the most extravagant 
systems not to have some reasonable aspects; and it is 
always the unperceived common sense which gives success 
to the hypothesis with which it is combined. At the bottom, 
everything true and permanent in the systems that are 
scattered through the course of ages, is the fruit of observa¬ 
tion which often labours for philosophy without the know¬ 
ledge of the philosopher; and, what is remarkable, there 
is nothing permanent in the changing forms of human 
opinion, but that which comes precisely from this experi¬ 
mental method, which at first appears competent to attain 
only that which is transitory. 

The method of observation is good in itself. It is 
given to us by the spirit of the age, which itself is the 
product of the general spirit of the world. We have faith 
only in that method, we can do nothing except with that, 
and yet in England and in Prance, it has hitherto done 
nothing but destroy without building up. With us, its 
single work in philosophy is the system of transformed sen «* 
sation. And whose is the fault ? Not of the method, but 
of men. The method is irreproachable; but it should be 
applied according to its true spirit. We must do nothing but 


334 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


observe; but we must observe everything. Human nature 
is not impotent; but we must deprive it of no portion of its 
strength. We may arrive at a permanent system; but it 
is possible only on condition that we are not stopped at the 
entrance of our course by a systematic prejudice. The 
philosophy of the eighteenth century did not proceed and 
could not proceed in this manner. The offspring of a 
struggle against the past, and wishing to gain by this strug¬ 
gle, it was experimental against the past, but systematic in 
relation to experience; fearful of going astray in the ancient 
darkness, finding evident facts under its hand in sensations, 
it was led to rest with them : at first through weakness, for 
every new method is weak; then by the dazzling influence, 
at that time almost irresistible, of the success of the phy¬ 
sical sciences, which seduced the attention from every other 
order of phenomena; and finally, by the blindness of the 
spirit of revolution which could be enlightened only by its 
excesses, and which was destined to go on until it had ob¬ 
tained an absolute triumph. Its cradle had been England; 
it was necessary that its battle-field should be Erance. 
Bacon has been often celebrated as the father of the experi¬ 
mental method; but the truth is that Bacon marked out 
the rules and processes of the experimental method within 
the sphere of the physical sciences, but not beyond; and 
that he was the first to lead that method astray in a syste¬ 
matic path, by limiting it to the external world and to sen¬ 
sibility. The language of Bacon is: “ Mens humani si 
agat in materiam, naturam rerum et opera Dei contem- 
plando, pro modo materiae operatur at que ab eadem deter- 
minatur: si ipsa in se vertatur, tanquam aranea texens 
telam, tunc demum indeterminata est; et parit telas 
quasdam doctrinae tenuitate fili operisque mirabiles, sed 
quoad usum frivolas et inanes.” As a general rule, obser¬ 
vation with Bacon is applicable only to the phenomena of 
sense; but induction supported on this basis alone will 
cany us but a little way. The philosophy which must 
needs proceed from such an imperfect application of method 
could not but be miserably imperfect itself. The system 
of transformed sensation was at the end of a procedure like 
this; and Bacon necessarily produced Condillac. Of so 


APPENDIX. 


335 


much consequence are the aberrations of method. Even 
the most trifling bring in their train the gravest errors, 
which cannot be destroyed but by going back to their 
principle. The first aberration from the true philosophical 
method comes from Bacon, its consequences stop only with 
Condillac, beyond whom there is no room for any further 
aberration, whether in point of method or of system. Is 
the imperfect method of Bacon admitted ? Then all the 
defects of the system of Condillac must be adopted. It is 
only feebleness and inconsistency which can stop short of 
them. Does the system of Condillac, in its rigour, shock 
the least attentive observation and human nature itself? We 
must go back to Bacon and endeavour to put a stop to the 
evil at its source; we must borrow the experimental 
method from Bacon, but avoid corrupting observation at 
the outset by imposing on it a system. We must employ 
only the method of observation, but apply it to all facts, 
whatever they may be, provided they exist; its accuracy 
depends on its impartiality, and impartiality is found only 
in universality. In this way, perhaps, may be established 
the long-sought alliance between the metaphysical and the 
physical sciences, not by the systematic sacrifice of the one 
to the other, but by the unity of their method applied to 
different phenomena. It might be possible, in this way, 
to satisfy the conditions of the spirit of the age, and of all 
that was legitimate and necessary in the revolution of the 
eighteenth century; and also perhaps to satisfy the most 
elevated wants of human nature, which are facts in them¬ 
selves, facts no less incontestable and imperious than any 
others. 

Facts, therefore, are the point of departure, if not the 
limit of philosophy. Now facts, whatever they may be, 
exist for us only as they come to our consciousness. It is 
there alone that observation seizes them and describes them, 
before committing them to induction, which forces them 
to reveal the consequences which they contain in their bo¬ 
som. The field of philosophical observation is consciousness; 
there is no other; but in this nothing is to be neglected; 
everything is important, for everything is linked together; 
and if one part be wanting, complete unity is unattainable. 



336 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


To return within our consciousness, and scrupulously to 
study all the phenomena, their differences and their rela¬ 
tions;—this is the primary study of philosophy. Its 
scientific name is psychology. Psychology is then the 
condition and as it were the vestibule of philosophy. The 
psychological method consists in completely retiring within 
the world of consciousness, in order to become familiar in 
that sphere where all is reality, but where the reality is so 
various and so delicate; and the psychological talent con¬ 
sists in placing ourselves at will within this interior world, 
in presenting the spectacle there displayed to ourselves; 
and in reproducing freely and distinctly all the facts which 
are accidentally and confusedly brought to our notice by 

the circumstances of life. 

As soon as we return within our consciousness, and, free 
from every systematic view, observe the diversified pheno¬ 
mena which are there exhibited, with the actual charac¬ 
teristics which distinguish them, we are at first struck with 
the presence of a multitude of phenomena which it is 
impossible to confound with those of sensibility. Sensation 
and the notions which it furnishes, or with which it is 
combined indeed, constitute an actual order of phenomena 
in our consciousness; but it also presents other facts no 
less incontestable which we may reduce to two great classes, 
voluntary facts and rational facts. The will is not sensa¬ 
tion : for the will often combats sensation; and it is even 
in this opposition that it is most signally manifested. 
Neither is the reason identical with sensation; for among 
the notions which reason furnishes, there are some, the 
characteristics of which are irreconcilable with those of the 
sensible phenomena, for example, the notions of cause, of 
substance, of time, of space, of unity, and the like. Let 
sensation be tortured, as much as you please, you will 
never draw from it the characteristics of universality and 
necessity by which these notions and many others are in¬ 
contestably distinguished. The case is the same with regard 
to the notion of the Good and that of the Beautiful: and, 
consequently, art and morality are enfranchised from the 
origin and the limits which have been imposed upon them 
by the exclusive philosophy of sensation, and placed, to- 


APPENDIX. 


337 


gether With metaphysics, in a superior and independent 
sphere. But this sphere itself, in all its sublimity, composes 
a portion of our consciousness, and hence falls within the 
reach of observation. Observation disengages it from the 
clouds in which it is usually enveloped, and gives to the 
phenomena which it comprises the same authority with the 
other phenomena of which consciousness is the theatre. 
The method of observation, accordingly, in the limits within 
which it is at first held by a wise circumspection, presents 
to us already many attractive prospects. These we must 
follow and enlarge. 

The first' duty of the psychological method is to retire 
within the field of consciousness, where there is nothing 
but phenomena, that are all capable of being perceived and 
judged by observation. Now as no substantial existence 
falls under the eye of consciousness, it follows that the first 
effect of a rigid application of method is to postpone the 
subject of ontology. It postpones it, I say, but does not 
destroy it. It is a fact, indeed, attested by observation, 
that in this same consciousness, in which there is nothing 
but phenomena, there are found notions, whose regular de¬ 
velopment passes the limits of consciousness and attains 
the knowledge of actual existences. Would you stop the 
development of these notions ? You would then arbitrarily 
limit the compass of a fact, you would attack this fact itself, 
and thus shake the authority of all other facts. We must 
either call in question the authority of consciousness in 
itself; or admit this authority without reserve for all the 
facts attested by consciousness. The reason is no less 
certain and real than the will or the sensibility; its cer¬ 
tainty once admitted, we must follow it wherever it 
rigorously conducts, though it be even into the depths of 
ontology. For example, it is a rational fact attested by 
consciousness, that in the view of intelligence, every phe¬ 
nomenon which is presented supposes a cause. It is a fact 
moreover that this principle of causality is marked with 
the characteristics of universality and necessity. If it be 
universal and necessary, to limit it would be to destroy it. 
Now in the phenomenon of sensation, the principle of 
causality intervenes universally and necessarily, and refers 


3o8 ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY'. 

this phenomenon to a cause; and our consciousness testi¬ 
fying that this cause is not the personal cause which the 
will represents, it follows that the principle of causality in 
its irresistible application conducts to an impersonal cause, 
that is to say, to an external cause, which subsequently, 
and always irresistibly, the principle of causality enriches 
with the characteristics and laws, of which the aggregate 
is the Universe. Here then is an existence; but an exist¬ 
ence revealed by a principle which is itself attested by 
consciousness. Here is a primary step in ontology, but 
by the path of psychology, that is to say, of observation. 
We are led by similar processes to the Cause of all causes, 
to the substantial Cause ; to God, and not only to a God of 
Power, but to a God of Justice, a God of Holiness; sothatthis 
experimental method, which applied to a single order of phe¬ 
nomena, incomplete and exclusive, destroyed ontology and 
the higher elements of consciousness, applied with fidelity, 
firmness, and completeness, to all the phenomena, builds 
up that which it had overthrown, and by itself furnishes 
ontology with a sure and legitimate instrument. Thus, 
having commenced with modesty, we can end with results 

whose certainty is equalled by their importance. 

Sensible facts are necessary. We do not impute them 
to ourselves. Kational facts are also necessary; and 
reason is no less independent of the will than sensibility. 
Voluntary facts alone are marked in the view of conscious¬ 
ness with the characteristics of personality and respon¬ 
sibility. The will alone is the person or the me. The 
me is the centre of the intellectual sphere. So long as the 
me does not exist, the conditions of the existence of all the 
other phenomena might be in force, but, without relation 
to the me, they would not be reflected in the consciousness 
and would be for it as though they were not. On the 
other hand, the will creates none of the rational and sen¬ 
sible phenomena; it even supposes them, since it does not 
apprehend itself, except in distinction from them. We do 
not find ourselves, except in a foreign world, between two 
orders of phenomena which do not pertain to us, which we 
do not even perceive, except on condition of separating 
ourselves from them. Still further, we do not perceive at 



APPENDIX. 


389 


all, except by a light which does not come from ourselves, 
for our personality is the will and nothing more; all light 
comes from reason ; and it is reason which perceives both 
itself, and the sensibility which envelops it, and the will 
which it obliges, without constraining. The element of 
knowledge is rational by its essence; and consciousness, 
although composed of three integrant and inseparable ele¬ 
ments, borrows its most immediate foundation from reason, 
without which no knowledge would be possible, and con¬ 
sequently no consciousness. Sensibility is the external 
condition of consciousness; the will is its centre; and 
reason its light. A profound and thorough analysis of 
reason is one of the most delicate undertakings of psy¬ 
chology. 

Reason is impersonal in its nature. It is not we who 
make it. It is so far from being individual, that its peculiar 
characteristics are the opposite of individuality, namely, 
universality and necessity; since it is to reason, that we 
owe the knowledge of universal and necessary truths, of 
principles which we all obey, and which we cannot but 
obey. The existence of these principles is then a pre¬ 
liminary fact which it was essential to establish in the 
first place upon the most complete evidence. It is a 
triumph of the method of observation, to which it must 
have been indebted for an incontestable basis. Then 
comes the question with regard to the precise number of 
these regulating principles of reason, which, as far as we 
are concerned, are reason itself. After having established 
the existence of such principles, it is the business of method 
to attempt a complete enumeration and a rigorous classifi¬ 
cation of them. Plato, who following Pythagoras, built 
his philosophy on these principles, neglected to count 
them ; it seems as if he shrunk from permitting a profane 
analysis to touch those divine wings on which he soared 
into the world of ideas. The methodical Aristotle, faith¬ 
ful to his master, but still more faithful to analysis, after 
having changed ideas into categories, submitted them to 
a severe examination and did not hesitate to give a list of 
them. This list, so much despised by frivolous minds as 


340 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


an arid nomenclature, is the boldest and the most hazardous 
affort of method. Is the list of Aristotle complete ? I 
believe that it is. It exhausts the subject. Let this 
be its immortal glory. But if the enumeration is com¬ 
plete, is there nothing to be desired in the classification 
and the arrangement of the categories ? Here commences 
the defect of the list of Aristotle. In my opinion, its 
order is arbitrary and does not correspond to the progres¬ 
sive development of intelligence. Besides, does not this 
list contain repetitions ? Would it not be possible to 
reduce it ? I have no doubt of it. Among modem 
systems, Cartesianism recognises necessary truths ; but it 
makes no attempt at completeness and precision with regard 
to them. In the eighteentli century, in France, necessary 
truths were set aside as by the previous question; they 
did not even receive the honour of being submitted to 
examination; they were guilty of being found in the old 
system; they must be sacrificed to sensation, the only 
basis and standard of all possible truth. The Scottish 
school which restored them to honour, enumerated a part 
of them, but did not think of making a complete account. 
It was reserved for Kant to renew the undertaking of 
Aristotle, and the first among the moderns, to attempt to 
form a complete list of the laws of thought. Of these, 
Kant made an exact and profound review; and his labour, 
in this respect, is superior even to that of Aristotle; but, 
in my opinion, similar charges can be brought against him ; 
and a long and detailed examination may have demonstrated 
to those who attended my Course, of 1818, that if the list 
of Kant is complete, it is arbitrary in its classification, and 
is susceptible of a legitimate reduction. If I have accom¬ 
plished anything useful in my teaching, it is perhaps on 
this point. I have at least renewed an important question : 
I have debated the two most celebrated solutions; and I 
have ventured to propose another which time and discus¬ 
sion have not yet shaken. In my opinion, all the laws of 
thought may be reduced to two, namely, the law of causa¬ 
lity and that of substance. These are the two essential 
and fundamental laws, of which all others are only deriva¬ 
tives, developed in an order by no means arbitrary. I have 


APPENDIX. 


341 

demonstrated, as I think, that if we examine these two 
laws in the order of the nature of things, the first is that 
of substance and the second that of causality; while in 
the order of the acquisition of our ideas, the law of causality 
precedes that of substance, or rather both are given to us 
together, and are contemporary in our consciousness. 

It is not sufficient to have enumerated, classed, and 
reduced to a system, the laws of reason; we must prove 
that they are absolute, in order to prove that their conse¬ 
quences, whatever they may be, are also absolute. Here 
is the defect of the celebrated discussion of Ivant respecting 
the Objective and Subjective in human knowledge. That 
great man, after seeing so clearly all the laws which preside 
over thought, struck with the character of necessity which 
they bear, that is to say, our inability not to recognise and 
follow them, supposed that he saw in this very fact a bond 
of dependence and relativeness with respect to the me, the 
peculiar and distinctive characteristic of which he was far 
from having completely fathomed. Now as soon as the 
laws of reason are degraded to being nothing but laws 
relative to the human condition, their whole compass is 
circumscribed by the sphere of our personal nature; and 
their widest consequences, always marked with an indelible 
character of subjectivity, engender only irresistible persua¬ 
sions, if you please, but no independent truths. This is 
the procedure, by which that incomparable analyst, after 
having so well described all the laws of thought, reduces 
them to impotence ; and with all the conditions of certainty, 
arrives at an ontological Skepticism, from which he finds 
no other asylum than the sublime inconsequence of allowing 
more objectivity to the laws of practical reason than those 
of speculative reason. The whole endeavour of my Lectures 
of 1818, after a systematic catalogue of the laws of reason, 
was to free them from the character of subjectivity which 
seemed to be imposed upon them by that of necessity; to 
reinstate them in their independence; and to save philosophy 
from the rock on which it had been thrown the moment of 
reaching the port. Our public discussions, for several 
months, were devoted to showing that the law's of human 
reason are nothing less than the law's of reason in itself 
2 h 


M2 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


More faithful than ever to the psychological method, instead 
of departing from observation, I plunged into it more 
deeply: and it is by observation that in the recesses of 
consciousness, and at a depth to which Kant did not pene^ 
trate, under the apparent relativeness and subjectivity of 
the necessary principles of thought, I detected and unfolded 
the fact, instantaneous but real, of the spontaneous percep¬ 
tion of truth,—a perception, which, not reflecting itself 
immediately, passes without notice in the interior con¬ 
sciousness, but is the actual basis of that which, at a 
subsequent period in a logical form and in the hands of 
reflection, becomes a necessary conception. All subjectivity, 
with all that is of a reflective character expires in the spon¬ 
taneity of perception. But the spontaneous perception is 
so pure that it escapes our notice ; it is the reflected light 
which strikes us, but often obscuring, by its false brightness, 
the purity of the primitive light. Beason it is true, be¬ 
comes subjective by its relation to the free and voluntary me, 
the seat and type of all subjectivity; but in itself it is 
impersonal; it belongs to no one individual rather than 
another within the compass of humanity; it belongs not 
even to humanity itself; and its laws consequently depend 
only on themselves. They preside over and govern hu¬ 
manity which perceives them, as well as nature which 
represents them; but they belong neither to the one or 
the other. It might even be said with greater truth that 
nature and humanity belong to them; since they have no 
beauty or truth but by their relation to intelligence, and 
since nature without the laws by which it is governed, and 
humanity without the principles which guide it, would 
soon be lost in the abyss of nothingness from which they 
could never escape. The laws of intelligence therefore 
constitute a separate world, which governs the visible world, 
presides over its movements, sustains and preserves it, but 
does not depend upon it. This is the intelligible world, 
the sphere of ideas , distinct from and independent of their 
subjects, internal and external, which Plato had glimpses 
of, and which modern analysis and psychology still discover 
at the present day in the depths of consciousness. 

The laws of thought having been demonstrated to be 
absolute, induction can make use of them without hesita- 


APPENDIX. 34S 

• 

tion; and from absolute principles obtained by observation 
can legitimately conduct us to a point beyond the imme¬ 
diate sphere of observation itself. Now among the laws 
of thought given by psychology, the two fundamental laws 
which contain all the others, the law of causality and 
the law of substance, irresistibly applied to them¬ 
selves, elevate us immediately to their cause and their 
substance ; and as they .are absolute they elevate 
us to an absolute cause and an absolute substance. 
But an absolute cause and an absolute substance are identical 
in essence ; since every absolute cause must be substanee 
in so far as it is absolute, and every absolute substance 
must be cause in order to be able to manifest itself. Be¬ 
sides, an absolute substance must be One in order to be 
absolute; two absolutes are a contradiction; and the 
absolute substance must be One, or not at all. We may 
even say that all substance is absolute in so far as it is 
substance, and consequently One; for relative substances de¬ 
stroy the very idea of substance, and finite substances which 
suppose beyond them another substance still to which they 
belong, bear a strong resemblance to phenomena. The 
Unity of substance, therefore, is involved in the very idea of 
substance, which is derived from the law of substance, an 
incontestable result of psychological observation; so that 
experience applied to consciousness, at a certain degree of 
profoundness gives that which appears at first view to be 
the most opposed to it, namely, ontology. In fact, sub¬ 
stantial causality is Being in itself; the rational laws, there¬ 
fore, are laws of Being, and reason is the true existence. 
Thus, as analysis applied to consciousness at first separated 
reason from personality, so now on the elevated point to 
which we have been conducted by analysis, we perceive that 
reason and its laws, referred to substance, can be neither a 
modification nor an effect of the me, since they are the 
immediate effect of the manifestation of absolute substance. 
Ontology, therefore, returns to psychology the lights which 
it borrows from it; and we thus arrive at the identity of 
the two extremities of science. 

Such is the analysis of reason. That of activity is not 
less important. Of all the active phenomena, the most 

2 H 2 


344 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


• 

striking undoubtedly is that of will. It is a fact, that in 
the midst of the movements whicli are carried on within 
us by external agents in spite of ourselves, we have the 
power of commencing a different movement; in the first 
place of conceiving it, then of deliberating whether we shall 
execute it, finally of resolving and proceeding to execution, 
of beginning it, of pursuing or suspending it, of accomplish¬ 
ing or retarding it, and at all times of controlling it. The 
fact is certain ; and it is no less certain, that the movement 
accomplished on these conditions assumes a new character 
in our eyes; we impute it to ourselves, we refer it as an 
effect to ourselves, and in that case we consider ourselves 
as its cause. This is the origin of our notion of cause, 
not of an abstract cause, but of a personal cause, of our¬ 
selves. The peculiar characteristic of the me is causality, 
or will, since we refer to ourselves, we impute to ourselves 
only what we cause, and we cause only what we will. To 
will, to cause, to exist for ourselves,—these are synonymous 
expressions of the same fact which comprises at once will, 
causality, and personality. The relation of the will and 
the person is not a simple relation of co-existence; it is a 
time relation of identity. To exist for ourselves is notone 
thing, and to will another, for in that case, there could be 
impersonal volitions, which, is contrary to facts, or a per¬ 
sonality, or se.lf : conscious me without will, which is impos¬ 
sible ; for to know myself as the me, is to distinguish myself 
from a not me ; now, we cannot distinguish ourselves from 
that but by separating ourselves from it, by leaving the 
impersonal movement and producing one which we impute 
to ourselves, that is to say, by exercising an act of volition. 
Will therefore is the essence of the person. The movements 
of sensibility, the desires, the passions, so far from constitu¬ 
ting personality, destroy it. Personality and passion are 
essentially in an inverse relation, in an opposition to each 
other which constitutes life. As we can find the. element 
of personality only in the will, so also we can find the ele¬ 
ment of causality only in the same place. We must not 
confound the will or the internal causality which immediately 
produces effects internal at first like their cause, with the 
external and actually passive instruments of this causality. 


APPENDIX. 


345 


which as instruments, appear at first sight also to produce 
effects, but without being their primary cause, that is to 
say, their true cause. When I throw a ball against another, 
it is not the ball which actually causes the motion that it 
communicates, for this motion was communicated to it by 
the hand, by the muscles which in our wonderful organ¬ 
ization are at the service of the will. Properly speaking, 
these actions are only effects connected with one another, 
alternately resembling causes, without containing a single 
real cause, and all traceable as effects, more or less distinctly, 
to the will as their primary cause. If we seek the notion 
of cause in the action of one ball upon another, as was done 
previously to Hume; or in the action of the hand on the 
ball, and of the primary muscles of motion on their 
extremities, or even in the action of the will on the muscle, 
as was done by M. Maine de Biran ; we shall find it in none 
of these cases, not even in the last, for it is possible that 
there should be a paralysis of the muscles which deprives 
the will of power over them, makes it unproductive, incap¬ 
able of being a cause, and consequently of suggesting the 
notion of it. But what no paralysis can prevent, is the 
action of the will on itself, the production of a resolution, 
that is to say, an act of causation entirely mental, the 
primitive type of all causality, of which all external move¬ 
ments, commencing with the muscular effort and ending 
with the action of one ball on another, are only symbols 
more or less imperfect. The first cause for us therefore is 
the will, of which the first effect is a volition. This is at 
once the highest and the purest source of the notion of cause 
which thus becomes identical with that of personality. And 
it is the taking possession, so to speak, of the cause in 
the will and the personality which is the condition for us 
of the ulterior or simultaneous conception of the external 
impersonal causes. 

The phenomenon of will presents the following elements • 
1, to decide upon an act to be performed ; 2, to deliberate; 
3, to resolve. Now if we look at it, it is reason which 
composes the first element entirely, and even the second; 
for it is reason also which deliberates, but it is not reason 
which resolves and determines. Now reason, which is 


346 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


thus combined with will, is combined in a reflective form ; 
to conceive an end, to deliberate* involves the idea of 
reflection. Reflection is therefore the condition of every 
voluntary act, if every voluntary act supposes a predeter¬ 
mination of its object and a process of deliberation. Now 
to act voluntarily, is, as we have seen, to act in this 
manner; and it is because the will is in fact reflective, 
that it presents such a striking phenomenon. But can a 
reflective operation be a primitive operation ? To will is,— 
with the consciousness that we can resolve and act,—to 
deliberate whether we shall resolve, whether we shall act 
in such or such a manner, and to decide in favour of one 
or the other. The result of this choice, of this decision, 
preceded by deliberation and predetermination, is volition, 
the immediate effect of personal activity; but in order to 
resolve and to act in this manner, it was necessary to know 
that we could resolve and act, it was necessary that we 
should have previously resolved and acted in a different 
manner, without deliberation or predetermination, that is 
to say, without reflection. The operation previous to 
reflection is spontaneity. It is a fact that even now we 
often act without having deliberated, and that rational 
perception spontaneously making known to us the act to 
be performed, the personal activity also spontaneously 
enters into operation and resolves at once, not by a foreign 
impulse, but by a kind of immediate inspiration, prior to 
reflection and often superior to it. The Qu’il mourut ! of 
the old Horatius, the a moi , Auvergne ! of the brave 
d’Assas, are not blind impulses, and in consequence desti¬ 
tute of morality ; but neither is it from reasoning or reflec¬ 
tion that they are borrowed by heroism. The phenomenon 
of spontaneous activity therefore is no less real than that 
of voluntary activity. Only, as everything which is re¬ 
flective is completely determined, and for that reason 
distinct, the phenomenon of voluntary and reflective 
activity, is more clear than that of spontaneous activity, 
which is less determined and more obscure. Moreover, 
the characteristic of every voluntary act is the power of 
repeating itself at will, the power of being summoned, so 
to speak, before the tribunal of consciousness, which ex- 


APPENDIX. 


347 


amines and describes it at its leisure; while on the other 
hand, as it is the characteristic of a spontaneous act that 
it is not voluntary, the spontaneous act is not repeated at 
will, and when it takes place is either unperceived or 
irrevocable, and cannot be afterwards summoned back but 
on condition of being reflective, that is to say, of being 
destroyed, as a spontaneous fact. Spontaneity is therefore 
necessarily subjected to that obscurity which surrounds 
everything which is primitive and instantaneous. 

With all our seeking, we can discover no other modes 
of action. Beflection and spontaneity comprise all the real 
forms of activity. 

Beflection as a principle and as a fact, supposes and 
follows spontaneity; but as there can be nothing in the 
Beflective which is not in the Spontaneous, all that we have 
said of the one will apply to the other; and although 
spontaneity is not accompanied either with predetermination 
or deliberation, it is no less than will, a real power of action 
and consequently a productive cause, and consequently 
again, a personal cause. Spontaneity then contains all 
that is contained by the will; and it contains it previously 
to that, in a less determined, but purer form; and hence 
we arrive at the immediate source of causality and of the 
me. The me already exists with the productive power 
which characterizes it in the flashing forth of spontaneity; 
and it is in this instantaneous flashing forth that it instan¬ 
taneously apprehends itself. We might say that it discovers 
itself in spontaneity, and establishes itself in reflection. 
The me, says Fichte, supposes itself in a voluntary deter¬ 
mination. This point of view is that of reflection. In 
order for the me to suppose itself, as Fichte says, it is 
necessary that it should clearly distinguish itself from the 
not-me. To distinguish is to deny; to distinguish one 
thing from another, is to affirm again, but by denying; it 
is to affirm, after having denied. Now it is not true that 
the intellectual life commences with a negation; and before 
reflection and the fact to the description of which Fichte 
has forever attached his name, there is another operation, 
in which the me finds itself without seeking, supposes itself, 
if you please, but without having wished to suppose itself, 


34S 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


by the sole virtue, the peculiar energy of the activity, which 
it recognises, as it manifests it, but without having pre¬ 
viously known it; for the activity is revealed to itself only 
by its acts, and the first act must have been the effect of a 
power which has hitherto been ignorant of itself. 

What then is this power which is revealed only by its acts, 
which finds and perceives itself in spontaneity, and again 
finds and reflects upon itself in will ? 

Whether spontaneous or voluntary, all personal acts have 
this characteristic in common, that they can be referred 
immediately to a cause which has its point of departure 
altogether in itself, that is to say, that they are free; such 
is the proper notion of liberty. Liberty cannot be confined 
to the will, for in that case, spontaneity would not be free; 
and on the other hand, liberty cannot consist merely in 
spontaneity, for then the will in its turn would not be free. 
If therefore the two phenomena are equally free, they can 
be so only on the condition, that we discard from the notion 
of liberty everything which belongs exclusively either to one 
or the other of the two phenomena, and that we allow to it 
only what is common to both. Now, what circumstance is 
common to both except that they have their point of depar¬ 
ture in themselves, and that they can be referred imme¬ 
diately to a cause, which is their proper cause, and which 
acts only by its own energy ? Liberty being the common 
characteristic of spontaneity and of will, comprises both 
these phenomena in itself; it ought to possess and it 
consequently does possess something more general than 
either, and which constitutes their identity. This is the 
only theory of liberty that agrees with the different facts 
which are announced as free by the consciousness of the 
human race, and which in their diversities have occasioned 
theories in contradiction with each other, because they have 
been constructed exclusively for a specific order of pheno¬ 
mena. Thus, for example, the theory which concentrates 
liberty in the will must needs admit no other than reflective 
liberty, preceded by a predetermination, accompanied with 
a process of deliberation, and marked with characteristics 
which greatly reduce the number of free acts, which take 
uway liberty from everything which is not reflective, from 


APPENDIX. 


349 


tlie enthusiasm of the poet and artist in the moment of 
creation, from the ignorance which reflects but little and 
scarcely acts otherwise than spontaneously, that is to say, 
from three quarters of the human race. Because,the expres¬ 
sion free-will implies the idea of choice, of comparison, and 
of reflection, these conditions have been imposed on liberty, 
of which free-will is only one form; free-will is free-volition, 
that is to say, volition; but will is so far from being 
adequate to the extent of liberty, that even language adds 
to it the epithet free, thus referring it to something still 
more general than itself. We may assert the same of 
spontaneity. Disengaged from the accompaniment, more 
or less tardy of reflection, of comparison, and of deliberation, 
spontaneity manifests liberty in a purer form, but it is only 
one form of liberty and not liberty entire ; the fundamental 
idea of liberty is that of a power which, under whatever 
form it act, acts only by an energy peculiar to itself. 

If liberty is distinct from free phenomena,—as the 
characteristic of every phenomenon is to be more or less 
determined, but always to be so in some degree,—it follows 
that the peculiar characteristic of liberty in its contrast 
with free phenomena, is indetermination. Liberty there¬ 
fore is not a form of activity, but activity in itself, the 
indetermined activity, which, precisely on that account, 
determines itself in one form or another. Hence it follows, 
once more, that the me or the personal activity, spontaneous 
or reflective, represents only the determined form of activity, 
but not its essence. Liberty is the ideal of the me; the 
me must needs constantly tend to it, without ever arriving 
at it; it participates in it, but is not identical with it. The 
me is liberty in action, not liberty in power; it is a cause, 
but a cause phenomenal and not substantial, relative and 
not absolute. The absolute me of Pichte is a contradiction. 
The very terms imply that nothing absolute and substantial 
is to be found in what is determined, that is to say, pheno¬ 
menal. In respect to activity, substance then cannot be 
found but beyond and above all phenomenal activity, in 
power not yet passed into action, in the indetermined essence 
which is capable of self-determination in liberty disengaged 
from its forms, which limit while they determine it. We 


350 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


are thus arrived then in the analysis of the me, by the way 
of psychology still, at a new aspect of ontology, at a 
substantial activity, anterior and superior to all phenomenal 
activity, which produces all the phenomena of activity, 
survives them all and renews them all, immortal and inex¬ 
haustible in the destruction of its temporary manifestations. 
And it is a remarkable fact, again, that this absolute activity, 
in its development, assumes two forms parallel with those 
of reason, namely, spontaneity and reflection. These two 
elements are found in one sphere as well as the other, and 
the principle of both is always a substantial causality. 
Activity and reason, liberty and intelligence are therefore 
intimately combined with each other in the unity of sub¬ 
stance. 

The last phenomenon of consciousness which we have 
not yet analyzed, sensation, lvould require similar develop¬ 
ments, but the time does not admit of them. I must 
content myself with a few words which thinkers will 
comprehend, and which will serve at least as a touch-stone 
for my future labours on the philosophy of nature. 

Sensation is a phenomenon of consciousness no less incon¬ 
testable than either of the others ; now if this phenomenon 
is real, as no phenomenon is sufficient to itself, reason 
which acts under the law of causality and of substance, 
compels us to refer the phenomenon of sensation to an 
existing cause ; and as this cause is evidently not the me, 
it is necessary that reason should refer sensation to another 
cause, for the action of reason is irresistible; it refers it 
therefore to a cause foreign to the me, placed beyond the 
influence of the me, that is to say, to an external cause; 
this is our notion of the outward world as opposed to the 
inward world which the me constitutes and fills, our notion 
of an external object as opposed to the subject which is 
personality itself, our notion of passivity as opposed to 
liberty. But let us not be deceived by the expression 
passivity; for the me is not passive and cannot be so, 
since it consists in free activity; neither is the object any 
more passive, since it is made known to us only in the 
character of cause, of active force. Passivity therefore is 


APPENDIX. 


351 


nothing but a relation between two forces which act on 
each other. Vary and multiply the phenomenon of sensa¬ 
tion, reason always and necessarily refers it to a cause 
which it successively charges, in proportion to the extent 
of experience, not with the internal modification of the 
subject, but with the objective qualities capable of produ¬ 
cing them, that is to say, it develops the notion of cause, 
but without departing from it, for qualities are always 
causes and can be known only as such, The external 
world therefore is nothing but an assemblage of causes 
corresponding to our real or possible sensations ; the rela¬ 
tion of these causes with each other is the order of the 
world. The world accordingly is of the same stuff with 
ourselves, and nature is the sister of man; it is active, 
living, animated like him; and its history is a drama no 
less than our own. 

Besides, as the development of the personal or human 
force takes place in consciousness, in some sort under 
the auspices of reason, which we recognise as our law 
even when we violate it; so the external forces are neces¬ 
sarily conceived of as submitted to laws in their 
development, or to speak more correctly, the laws of ex¬ 
ternal forces are nothing but their mode of development, 
the constancy of which forms what we call regularity. 
Force in nature is distinct from its law, as personality in 
us is distinct from reason; distinct, I say, and not sepa¬ 
rate ; for all force carries its law with it, and manifests it 
in its action and by its action. Now, all law supposes a 
reason, and the laws of the world are nothing but reason 
as manifested in the world. Here then is a new relation 
of man with nature. Nature, like humanity, is composed 
of laws and of forces, of reason and of activity; and in 
this point of view, the two worlds are again brought 
closely together. 

Is there nothing further ? As we have reduced the laws 
of reason and the modes of free force to two, could we not 
also attempt a reduction of the forces ol nature and of 
their laws ? Could we not reduce all the regular modes 
of the action of nature to two, which in their relation 
with the spontaneous and the reflective action of the me and 


352 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


of reason, would exhibit a still more intimate harmony than 
that which we have just indicatedbetween the internaland the 
external world P It will be perceived that I here allude to ex¬ 
pansion and concentration; butsolongasmethodicallabours 
shall not have converted these conjectures into certainty, I 
will hope and be silent; I will content myself with remark¬ 
ing that the philosophical considerations which reduce the 
notion of the external world to that of force have already 
gained currency, and secretly preside over modern Physics. 
What physical inquirer, since Euler, seeks anything in 
nature but forces and laws ? Who now speaks of atoms ? 
And even molecules, the old atoms revived,—who defends 
them as anything but an hypothesis P If the fact be in¬ 
contestable, if modern Physics be now employed only with 
forces and laws, I draw the rigorous conclusion from it, 
that the science of Physics, whether it know it or not, is 
no longer material, aud that it became spiritual when it 
rejected every other method than observation and induction 
which can never lead to aught but forces and laws. Now 
what is there material in forces and laws ? The physical 
sciences then themselves have entered into the broad path 
of an enlightened Spiritualism; and they have only to 
march with a firm step, and to gain a more and more pro¬ 
found knowledge of forces and laws, in order to arrive at 
more important generalizations. Let us go still further. 
As it is a law already recognised of the same reason which 
governs humanity and nature, to refer every finite cause 
and every multiple law, that is to say, every phenomenal 
cause and every phenomenal law, to something absolute 
which leaves nothing to be sought beyond it in relation to 
existence, that is to say, to a substance; so this law refers 
the external world, composed of forces and laws to a sub¬ 
stance which must needs be a cause in order to be the 
subject of the causes of this world, which must needs be 
an intelligence in order to be the subject of its laws, a sub¬ 
stance, in fine, which must needs be the identity of activity 
and intelligence. We are thus arrived accordingly, for 
the second time, bv observation and induction in the exter¬ 
nal sphere, at precisely the same point to which observa¬ 
tion and induction have successively conducted us in the 


APPENDIX. 


353 


sphere of personality and in that of reason; consciousness 
in its triplicity, is therefore one; the physical and moral world 
is one, science is one, that is to say in other words, God is 

One. 

Let us sum up these ideas, and at the same time more 
fully unfold them. 

In returning within our consciousness, we have seen that 
the relation of reason, of activity, and of sensation is so 
intimate, that one of these elements being given, the other 
two immediately come into exercise, and that this element 
is the free activity. Without the free activity or the me, 
consciousness does not exist, that is to say, the other two 
phenomena, whether they take place or not, are as if they 
were not, for the me which does not yet exist. Now the 
me does not exist for itself, does not and cannot perceive 
itself, but by distinguishing itself from sensation, which by 
that act is perceived, and which thus takes its place in con¬ 
sciousness. But as the me cannot perceive itself, nor per¬ 
ceive sensation except by perceiving, that is to say, by the 
intervention of reason, the necessary principle of all percep¬ 
tion, of all knowledge, it follows that the exercise of reason 
is contemporary with the exercise of personal activity and 
with sensible impressions. The triplicity of consciousness, 
the elements of which are distinct and irreducible one to 
the other, is then resolved into a single fact, as the unity 
of consciousness exists only on condition of that triplicity. 
Moreover, if the three elementary phenomena of conscious¬ 
ness are contemporary, if reason immediately illumines the 
activity which then distinguishes itself from sensation; as 
reason is only the action of the two great laws of causality 
and of substance, it is necessary that reason should immedi¬ 
ately refer the action to an internal cause and substance, 
namely the me, and sensation to an external cause and 
substance, the not-me; but as it cannot rest in them as 
causes truly substantial, both because their contingent and 
phenomenal character takes from them every claim to being- 
absolute and substantial, and because as they are two, they 
limit each other and thus exclude each other from the rank 
of substance, it is necessary that reason should refer them 
to a single substantial cause, beyond which there is no- 

2 i 


354 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


thing to be sought in relation to existence, that is to say, in 
respect of cause and substance, for existence is the identity 
of both. The substantial and causative existence, there¬ 
fore, with the two finite causes or substances in which it 
develops itself, is made known at the same time with these 
two causes, with the differences which separate them, and 
the bond of nature which connects them, that is to say, 
ontology is given to us at the same time in its completeness, 
and even at the same time with psychology. Thus, in the 
first fact of consciousness, the psychological unity in its 
triplicity is found, so to speak, face to face with the onto¬ 
logical unity in its parallel triplicity. The fact of conscious¬ 
ness which comprehends three internal elements reveals to 
us also three external elements. Every fact of consciousness 
is psychological and ontological at once, and contains 
already the three great ideas which science afterwards divides 
or brings together, but which it cannot go beyond, namely, 
man, nature, and God. But man, nature, and God as 
revealed by consciousness are not vain formulas, but facts 
and realities. Man is not in the consciousness without 
nature, nor nature without man, but both meet together 
in their opposition and their reciprocity, as causes, and as 
relative causes, the nature of which is always to develop 
themselves, and always by each other. The God of con¬ 
sciousness is not an abstract God, a solitary monarch 
exiled beyond the limits of creation on the desert throne of 
a silent Eternity and of an absolute existence which resem¬ 
bles even the negation of existence. He is a God at once 
true and real, at once substance and cause, always sub¬ 
stance and always cause, being substance only in so far as 
he is cause, and cause only in so far as he is substance, that 
is to say, being absolute cause, one and many, eternity and 
time, space and number, essence and life, indivisibility and 
totality, principle, end and centre, at the summit of Being 
and at its lowest degree, infinite and finite together, triple, 
in a word, that is to say, at the same time God, nature, and 
humanity. In fact, if God be not everything, he is nothing ; 
if he be absolutely indivisible in himself, he is inaccessible ; 
and consequently he is incomprehensible, and his incom¬ 
prehensibility is for us the same as his destruction. In- 


APPENDIX. 


35& 

comprehensible as a formula and in the school, God is 
clearly visible in the world which manifests him, for the 
soul which feels aud possesses him. Everywhere present 
he returns, as it were, to himself in the consciousness of 
man, of which he indirectly constitutes the mechanism and 
the phenomenal triplicity by the reflection of his own nature 
and of the substantial triplicity of which he is the absolute 
identity. 

Having gained these heights, philosophy becomes more 
luminous as well as more grand; universal harmony enters 
into human thought, enlarges it, and gives it peace. The 
divorce of ontology and psychology, of speculation and ob¬ 
servation, of science and common sense, is brought to an 
end by a method which arrives at speculation by observa¬ 
tion, at ontology by psychology, in order then to confirm 
observation by speculation, psychology by ontology, and 
w T hich starting from the immediate facts of consciousness, 
of which the common sense of the human race is composed, 
derives from them the science which contains nothing more 
than common sense, but which elevates it to its purest and 
most rigid form, and enables it to comprehend itself. But 
here I approach a fundamental point. 

If every fact of consciousness contains all the human 
faculties, sensibility, free activity, and reason, the me, the 
not-me, and their absolute identity ; and if every fact of 
consciousness be equal to itself, it follows that every man 
who has the consciousness of himself possesses and cannot 
but possess all the ideas that are necessarily contained in 
consciousness. Thus every man, if he knows himself, 
knows all the rest, nature and God at the same time with 
himself. Every man believes in his own existence, every 
man therefore believes in the existence of the world and of 
God ; every man thinks, every man therefore thinks God, 
if we may so express it; every human proposition, reflect¬ 
ing the consciousness, reflects the idea of Unity and of 
Being that is essential to consciousness ; every human pro¬ 
position therefore contains God; every man who speaks, 
speaks of Godj and every word is an act of faith and a hymn. 
Atheism is a barren formula, a negation without reality, an 
abstraction of the mind which cannot assert itself without 
2 i .2 


356 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


self-destruction ; for every assertion, even though negative* 
is a judgment which contains the idea of being, and, con¬ 
sequently, God in his fullness. Atheism is the illusion of 
a few sophists, who place their liberty in opposition to 
their reason, and are unable even to give an account to 
themselves of what they think 5 but the human race which is 
never false to its consciousness, and never places itself in 
contradiction to its laws, possesses the knowledge of God, 
believes in him, and never ceases to proclaim him. In 
fact, the human race believes in reason, and cannot but 
believe in it, in that reason which is manifested in conscious¬ 
ness, in a momentary relation with the me,—the pure 
though faint reflection of that primitive light which flows 
from the bosom of the eternal substance, which is at once 
Substance, Cause, Intelligence. Without the manifestation 
of reason in our consciousness, there could be no knowledge, 
neither psychological, nor still less, ontological. Eeason 
is, in some sort, the bridge between psychology and onto¬ 
logy, between consciousness and being ; it rests at the 
same time on both ; it descends from God and approaches 
man ; it makes its appearance in the consciousness, as a 
guest who brings intelligence of an unknown world, of which 
it at once presents the idea and awakens the want. If 
reason were personal, it would have no value, no authority, 
beyond the limits of the individual subject. If it remained 
in the condition of primitive substance, without manifes¬ 
tation, it would be the same for the me which would not 
know itself, as if it were not. It is necessary therefore 
that the intelligent substance should manifest itself; and this 
manifestation is the appearance of reason in the conscious¬ 
ness. Eeason then is literally a'revelation, a necessary and 
universal revelation, which is wanting to no man and which 
enlightens every mail on his coming into the world: illuminat 
omneni hominem venientem in hunc mundum. Eeason is the 
necessary mediator between God and man, the of 
Pythagoras and Plato, the Word made flesh which serves 
as the interpreter of God and the teacher of man, divine and 
human at the same time. It is not, indeed, the Absolute 
God in his majestic individuality, but his manifestation in 
spirit and in truth ; it is not the Being of beings, but it is 


APPENDIX. 


357 


the revealed God of the human race. As God is never 
wanting to the human race and never abandons it, so the 
human race believes in God with an irresistible and unal¬ 
terable faith, and this unity of faith is its own highest unity. 

If these convictions of faith be combined in every act 
of consciousness, and if consciousness be one in the whole 
human race, whence arises the prodigious diversity which 
seems to exist between man and man, and in what does 
this diversity consist ? In truth, when we appear to 
perceive at first view so many differences between one 
individual and another, one country and another, one 
epoch of humanity and another, we feel a profound emotion 
of melancholy ; and are tempted to regard an intellectual 
development so capricious, and even the whole of humanity, 
as a phenomenon without consistency, without grandeur, 
and without interest. But it is demonstrated by a more 
attentive observation of facts, that no man is a stranger to 
either of the three great ideas which constitute conscious¬ 
ness, namely personality or the liberty of man, impersonality 
or necessity of nature, and the Providence of God. Every 
man comprehends these three ideas immediately, because 
he found them at first and constantly finds them again 
within himself. The exceptions to this fact, by their 
small number, by the absurdities which they involve, by 
the difficulties which they create, serve only to exhibit, in 
a still clearer light, the universality of faith in the human 
race, the treasure of good sense deposited in truth, and 
the peace and happiness that there are for a human soul 
in not discarding the convictions of its kind. Leave out 
the exceptions which appear from time to time in certain 
critical periods of history, and you will perceive that the 
masses which alone have true existence, always and every¬ 
where live in the same faith, of which the forms only vary. 
But the masses do not possess the secret of their convic¬ 
tions. Truth is not science. Truth is for all; science for 
few. All truth exists in the human race ; but the human 
race is not made up of philosophers. In fact, philosophy 
is the aristocracy of the human species. Its glory and its 
strength, like that of all true aristocracy, is not to separate 
itself from the people, but to sympathize and identify itself 


358 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


with them, to labour with them, while it places its foun¬ 
dation in their hearts. Philosophical science is the rigorous 
account which renders to itself of the ideas which it has 
not created. We have already shown, that reflection sup¬ 
poses a previous operation to which it applies itself, since 
reflection is merely a return upon what has gone before. 

If there had been no prior operation, there could have 
been no voluntary repetition of this operation, that is to 
say, no reflection; for reflection is nothing else; it does 
not produce ; it verifies and develops. There is therefore 
actually nothing more in reflection than in the operation 
which precedes it, than in spontaneity ; only reflection is 
a degree of intelligence, rarer and more elevated than 
spontaneity, and with the condition, moreover, that it 
faithfully represent it, and develop without destroying it. 
Now in my opinion, humanity as a mass is spontaneous 
and not reflective; humanity is inspired. The divine 
breath which is in it, always and everywhere reveals to it 
all truths under one form or another, according 1 'to the place 
and time. The soul of humanity is a poetical soul which 
discovers in itself the secrets of beings; and gives utter¬ 
ance to them in prophetic chants which ring from age to 
age. At the side of humanity is philosophy, which listens 
with attention, gathers up its words, registers them, if we 
may so speak; and when the moment of inspiration has 
passed away, presents them with reverence to the admirable 
artist who had no consciousness of his genius, and who 
often does not recognise his own work. Spontaneity is 
the genius of human nature; reflection is the genius of a 
few individuals. The difference between reflection and 
spontaneity is the only difference possible in the identity of 
intelligence. I have proved, as I flatter myself, that this 
is the only real difference in the forms of reason, in those 
of activity, perhaps even in those of life; in history also, 
it is the only difference which separates a man from his 
fellow-men. Hence it follows that we are all penetrated 
with the same spirit, are all of the same family, children 
of the same Father, and that the brotherhood of man 
admits of no differences but such as are essential to indivi¬ 
duality. Considered in this aspect, the differences of 


APPENDIX. 


359 


individuals exhibit something noble and interesting, be¬ 
cause they testify to the independence of each of us, and 
separate man from nature. We are men and not stars; 
we have movements that are peculiar to ourselves ; but all 
our movements, however irregular in appearance, are 
accomplished within the circle of our nature, the two 
extremities of which are points essentially similar. Spon¬ 
taneity is the point of departure; reflection the point of 
return; the entire circumference is the intellectual life ; 
the centre is the Absolute Intelligence which governs and 
explains the whole. These principles possess an inex¬ 
haustible fruitfulness. Go from human nature to external 
nature, you will there And spontaneity under the form of 
expansion ; reflection under that of concentration. Extend 
your view to universal existence ; external nature there 
performs the part of spontaneity, humanity, that of reflec¬ 
tion. In fine, in the history of the human species, the Orien¬ 
tal world represents that first movement, the vigorous 
spontaneity of which has furnished the race with an indes¬ 
tructible basis; and the Pagan world, and still more the 
Christian, represents reflection which gradually developes 
itself, combines with spontaneity, decomposes and recom¬ 
poses it with the liberty which is its essence, while the 
spirit of the world hovers over all its forms and remains at 
the centre; but under all its forms, in every world, at all 
degrees of existence, physical, intellectual, or historical, the 
same integrant elements are discovered in their variety and 
their harmony. 


III. 

PASSAGE FROM PSYCHOLOGY TO ONTOLOGY. 

[Extract from the Preface to the Second Edition of the Philoso¬ 
phical Fragments.] 

As soon as reason is established in its true nature and 
rightful independence, we easily recognise the legitimacy 



360 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


of its applications when it passes beyond the sphere of con¬ 
sciousness. Eeason thus arrives at beings as well as 
phenomena; it reveals to us the world and God with as 
much authority as our own existence or any of its modifi¬ 
cations ; and ontology is no less legitimate than psychology, 
because it is psychology itself which, by enlightening us in 
regard to the nature of reason, leads us to ontology. 

Ontology is the science of Being. It is the knowledge 
of our own existence, of the existence of the external world, 
and of God. It is reason which gives us this threefold 
knowledge on the same authority with that of the slightest 
cognition which we possess ; reason, the sole faculty of all 
knowing, the only principle of certainty, the exclusive stand¬ 
ard of the True and the False, of good and evil, which alone 
can perceive its own mistakes, correct itself when it is de¬ 
ceived, restore itself when it is in error, call itself to account 
and pronounce upon itself the sentence of acquittal or 
of condemnation. And we must not imagine that reason 
waits for slow developments before it presents to man this 
threefold knowledge of himself, of the world, and of God ; 
on the contrary, this threefold knowledge is given to us 
entirely in each of its parts, and even in every fact of con¬ 
sciousness, in the first as well as in the last. It is still 
psychology which here explains ontology, but a psychology 
to which only profound reflection can attain. 

Can there be a single fact of consciousness without a 
certain degree of attention ? Let attention be impaired or 
destroyed, and our thoughts become confused, they are 
gradually lost in obscure reveries which soon vanish of 
themselves, and are for us as if they were not. Even the 
perceptions of the senses are blunted by want of attention, 
and degenerate into merely organic impressions. The or¬ 
gan is struck, often perhaps with force; but the mind being 
elsewhere does not perceive the impression; there is no 
sensatiou; there is no consciousness. Attention therefore 
is the condition of all consciousness. 

Now is not every act of attention more or less volun¬ 
tary ? And is not every voluntary act characterized by the 
circumstance, that we consider ourselves as the cause of 
it ? And is not this cause whose effects vary while it re- 


APPENDIX. 


361 


mains the same itself,—is not this power which is revealed 
to us only by its acts, but which is distinguished from its 
acts and which its acts do not exhaust,—is it not, I say, 
this cause, this force, which we call I, me, our indivi¬ 
duality, our personality,—that personality of which we never 
doubt, which we never confound with any other, because 
we never refer to any other those voluntary acts which give 
us the inward feeling, the immovable conviction of its 
reality ? 

The me is then revealed to us in the character of cause, 
of force. But can this force, this cause which we are, do 
everything which it wishes ? Does it meet with no ob¬ 
stacles ? It meets with them of all kinds, at every moment. 
A sense of our feebleness is constantly united with that of 
power. A thousand impressions are at all times made 
upon us ; take away attention and they do net come to our 
consciousness; let attention be applied to them, the phe¬ 
nomenon of sensation begins. Here then, at the same time 
that I refer the act of attention to myself, as its cause, I 
cannot, for the same reason, refer to myself the sensation 
to which attention has been applied; I cannot do this, but 
I cannot avoid referring it to some cause, to a cause 
necessarily other than myself, that is to say, to an external 
cause, and to an external cause whose existence is no less 
certain to me than my own existence, since the phenomenon 
which suggests it to me is no less certain than the pheno¬ 
menon which suggested my own, and both the phenomena 
are presented to me with each other. 

We have here then two kinds of distinct causes. The 
one personal, placed in the very centre of consciousness, 
the other external and beyond the sphere of consciousness. 
The cause which we are is evidently limited, imperfect, 
finite, since it constantly meets with bounds and obstacles 
among the variety of causes to which we necessarily refer 
the phenomena that we do not produce,—the phenomena 
purely affective, and not voluntary. On the other hand, 
these causes themselves are limited and finite, since we 
resist them to a certain degree as they resist us, we limit 
their action as they limit ours, and they also mutually limit 
each other. It is reason which reveals to us these two 


362 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


kinds of causes. It is reason, which, developing itself in 
our consciousness and perceiving there at the same time 
attention and sensation, as soon as these two simultaneous 
phenomena are perceived, suggests to us immediately two 
kinds of distinct causes, but correlative and mutually limit¬ 
ed, to which they must be referred. But does reason stop 
with this ? By no means. It is a fact, moreover, that as 
soon as the notion of finite and limited causes is given, we 
cannot but conceive of a superior cause, infinite and abso¬ 
lute, which is itself the first and last cause of all others. 
The internal and personal cause and external causes are 
incontestably causes in relation to their own effects ; but 
the same reason which reveals them to us as causes, reveals 
them as limited and relative causes, and thus prevents us 
from stopping with them as causes sufficient to themselves, 
and compels us to refer them to a supreme cause, which 
has made them and ivhich sustains them; which is in re¬ 
lation to them what they are in relation to the phenomena 
that are peculiar to them ; and which as it is the Cause of 
all causes, and the Being of all beings, is sufficient in itself, 
and sufficient to reason, which seeks and which finds nothing 
beyond. 

Let this fundamental point be well considered. Its con¬ 
sequences are of the utmost importance. As the notion of 
the me is that of the cause to which we refer the phenomena 
of volition, so the notion of the not-me is contained entirely 
in that of the cause of the sensible and involuntary pheno¬ 
mena. Now, as the being which we are and the external 
world are nothing but causes, it follows that the Being of 
beings to which we refer them is equally revealed to us in 
the character of cause. God exists for us only in the rela¬ 
tion of cause; without this, reason would not refer to him 
either humanity or the world. He is absolute substance 
only inasmuch as he is absolute cause, and his essence con¬ 
sists precisely in his creative power. I should here require 
a volume in order to describe completely and to place in a 
clear light the manner in which reason elevates us to the 
absolute cause, after having revealed to us the duality of 
the personal cause and of external causes. I merely sum 
kip in a few lines the long researches, of which the remains 


APPENDIX. 


363 


are to be seen in these Fragments, and the course in the 
Preface. It is only this course which 1 have wished to 
recall. 

Here is no hypothesis. We need only enter within our 
consciousness,—to a considerable depth it is true,—in 
order to find everything which has been stated : for once 
more to sum up this summary, there is not a single fact of 
consciousness possible without the me ; on the other hand, 
the me cannot know itself without knowing the not-me ; 
neither the one nor the other can be known with the reci¬ 
procal limitation which characterizes them, without the con¬ 
ception more or less distinct of an infinite and absolute 
Being, to which they must be referred. These three ideas 
of the me or of the free personality, of the not-me or of 
nature, of their absolute cause, of their substance, or of 
God, are intimately connected with each other, and com¬ 
pose one and the same fact of consciousness, the elements 
of which are inseparable. There is not a man in the world 
who does not bear this fact, in all its parts, within his 
consciousness. Hence the natural and permanent faith of 
the human race. But every man does not give an account 
to himself of what he knows. To know, without giving 
an account of our knowledge to ourselves ; to know and to 
give an account of our knowledge to ourselves,—this is the 
only possible difference between man and man, between the 
people and the philosopher. In the one, reason is altogether 
spontaneous ; it seizes at first upon its objects; but with¬ 
out returning upon itself and demanding an account of its 
procedure ; in the other, reflection is added to reason ; but 
this reflection, in its most profound investigations, cannot 
add to natural reason, a single element which it does not 
already possess ; it can add to it nothing but the knowledge 
of itself. Again, I say, reflection well-directed; for if it 
be ill-directed, it does not comprehend natural reason in 
all its parts; it leaves out some element, and repairs its 
mutilations only by arbitrary inventions, hirst, to omit, 
then to invent; this is the common vice of almost all systems 
of philosophy. The office of philosophy is to reproduce in 
its scientific formulas the pure faith of the human race; 
nothing less than this faith ; nothing more than this faith; 


564 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


this faith alone, but this faith in all its parts. Its peculiar 
characteristic is to build ontology on psychology, to pass 
from one to the other by the aid of a faculty, which is both 
psychological and ontological, subjective and objective at 
once; which appears in us without properly belonging to 
us; which enlightens the shepherd as well as the philo¬ 
sopher ; which is wanting to no one and is sufficient for all. 
This faculty is reason, which from the bosom of conscious¬ 
ness extends to the Infinite and reaches at length to the 
Being of beings. 


IY. 

REPLY TO THE CPIARGE OF PANTHEISM. 

[Extract from the Preface to the Second edition of the Philoso¬ 
phical Fragments.] 

It is in reply to this accusation, which has found so 
many echoes even beyond th^ Sensual school, that I have 
written a special dissertation on the Eleatic school, in 
which I fully explain myself, on the subject of Pantheism, its 
philosophical and historical origin, the principle of its 
errors, and also on that element in it which may be called 
good and even useful. 

Pantheism, properly speaking, is the ascribing of Divi¬ 
nity to the All, the grand Whole considered as God, the 
Universe-God of the greater part of my adversaries, of 
Saint Simon, for example. It is in its essence a kind of 
genuine Atheism, but with which may be combined, as 
has been done, if not by Saint Simon, at least by his 
school, a certain religious vein, by applying to the world, 
without the slightest authority, those ideas of the Good 
and the Beautiful, of the Infinite and of Unity, which 
belong only to the Supreme Cause and are not to be met 
with in the world, except in so far as, like every effect, it 
is the manifestation of all the powers contained in the 



APPENDIX. 


365 


cause. The system opposed to Pantheism is that of 
absolute Unity, so far superior and prior to the world, as 
to be foreign to it, and to make it impossible to compre¬ 
hend how this unity could ever depart from itself, and liow 
from a principle like this, the vast Universe, with the 
variety of its forces and phenomena, could proceed. This 
latter system is the abuse of metaphysical abstraction, as 
the former is the abuse of an enthusiastic contemplation of 
nature, retained, sometimes unconsciously, in the bonds of 
the senses and the imagination. These two systems are 
more natural than one would suppose, who was ignorant 
of the history of philosophy, or who had not himself passed 
through the different states of mind which produce them 
both. As a general rule, every naturalist ought to guard 
against the former, and every metaphysician against the 
latter. The perfection, but at the same time the difficulty, 
is not to lose the sense of nature in the meditations of the 
school, and, in the presence of nature to ascend, in spirit 
and in truth, to the invisible principle, which is at once 
manifested and concealed by the imposing harmony of the 
Universe. Would it be thought possible that the Sensual 
school should bring against any one the accusation of 
Pantheism, should bring it against me P To accuse me 
of Pantheism, is to accuse me of confounding the First, 
Absolute, Infinite Cause with the universe, that is to say, 
with the two relative and finite causes of the me and the 
not-ine, of which the limits and the evident insufficiency 
are the foundation from which I rise to the knowledge of 
God. In truth, I did not suspect that I should ever be 
called upon to defend myself from a charge like this. But 
if I have not confounded God and the world ; if my God 
is not the Universe-God of Pantheism, neither is he, 1 
confess, the abstraction of Absolute Unity, the lifeless God 
of the scholastic theology. As God is made known only 
in so far as he is absolute cause, on this account, in my 
opinion, he cannot but produce, so that the creation ceases 
to be unintelligible, and God is no more without a world 
than a world without God. This last point has appeared 
to me of such great importance that I have not shrunk 
from expressing it with all the strength that I possessed. 

2 K 


366 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


“ The God of consciousness is not an abstract God: a 
solitary monarch exiled beyond the limits of creation on 
the desert throne of a silent Eternity and of an absolute 
existence which resembles even the negation of existence. 
He is a God at once true and real, at once substance and 
cause, always substance and always cause, being substance 
only in so far as he is cause, that is to say, being absolute 
cause, one and many, eternity and time, space and number, 
essence and life, indivisibility and totality, principle, end 
and centre, at the summit of being and at its lowest degree, 
infinite and finite together.” It is not a little surprising, 
that it is this passage from which it has been inferred that 
my system was identical with that of Spinoza and the 
Eleatics. There is only one difficulty in that inference, 
namely, that this passage is immediately directed against 
all metaphysical speculation in the spirit of Spinoza and 
the Eleatics. I beg pardon of my adversaries, but I must 
remind them that the God of Spinoza and the Eleatics is 
a pure substance and not a cause. In the system of Spi¬ 
noza, creation is impossible ; in mine it is necessary. As 
to the Eleatics, they admit neither the testimony of the 
senses, nor the existence of diversity, nor that of any 
phenomenon ; and they absorb the entire Universe in the 
abyss of Absolute Unity. But let this pass. My adver¬ 
saries have so often repeated that I was a Pantheist and 
an Eleatic,—a contradictory assertion,—that for some 
time it was taken for granted by a large part of the public, 
and I was compelled to give a history of the Eleatic 
school, to show that I did not belong to it myself. 


[From the New Philosophical Fragments—Art. Xenophanes, 
p. 71 et seq.] 

Human nature raises its voice against Pantheism. All 
the talent in the world can never justify this doctrine, or 
reconcile it with the feelings of mankind. If consistent, it 
gives us, in its result, merely a sort of soul of the world. 



APPENDIX. 


367 


as the principle of all things; with fatality for the only 
law; the confounding also of good and evil—that is to say 
their distraction in the depths of a vague abstract unity 
without any fixed subject; for there is certainly no absolute 
unity in any of the parts of this world taken separately. 
How then should it exist in their aggregate? As the Ab¬ 
solute and the Necessary cannot, in any way, be derived 
from the Relative and Contingent, so also from Plurality, 
added to itself as often as you please, no generalization can 
derive Unity ; totality only is thus obtained. At bottom, 
Pantheism turns on the confusion of these two ideas, which 
are so essentially distinct. On the other hand, unity with¬ 
out plurality is no more real, than plurality without unity 
is true. An absolute unity which does not depart from 
itself, or which projects only a shadow, may overwhelm us 
with its grandeur, may transport us with its mysterious 
charm; but it is all in vain, it does not enlighten the mind ; 
it is loudly contradicted by those faculties which are in re¬ 
lation with this world, and which attest its reality, and by 
all our active and moral faculties, which would be a mock¬ 
ery, which would be an accusation against their author, if 
the theatre, in which they are called to exercise themselves 
were only an illusion and a snare. A God without a world 
is no less false than a world without a God; a cause with¬ 
out effects which manifest it, or an indefinite series of effects 
without a primary cause; a substance which should never 
be developed, or a rich development of phenomena without 
a substance which sustains them; reality borrowed only 
from the Visible or the Invisible; in both these extremes, 
there are equal error and equal danger, equal forgetfulness 
of human nature, equal forgetfulness of one of the essential 
sides of thought and of things. Between those two abysses, 
the good sense of the human race has long pursued 
its path; far from systems and from schools, the human 
race has long believed with equal certainty in God and in 
the world. It believes in the world as a real and permanent 
effect, which it refers to a cause, not to an impotent and 
contradictory cause, which, forsaking its effect, would thus 
destroy it, but to a cause worthy of the name which con¬ 
stantly producing and reproducing, deposits its strength 
2 k 2 


368 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


and its beauty, without ever exhausting them, in its work ; 
it believes in the world ns an aggregate of phenomena, 
which would cease to exist, the moment the eternal substance 
should cease to sustain them; it believes in the world as 
the visible manifestation of a hidden principle which speaks 
to it beneath this veil, and which it adores in nature and 
in its own consciousness. This is what, as a mass, the 
human race believes. The glory of true philosophy would 
be to accept this universal faith, and to give a legitimate 
explanation of it But through want of supporting itself 
on the human race, and of taking common sense for its 
guide, philosophy, hitherto straying on the light hand and 
left, has fallen by turns into one or the other extreme of 
systems that are equally true in one relation and equally 
false in another; and both vicious for the same reason, be¬ 
cause they are equally exclusive and incomplete. This is 
the everlasting rock to which philosophy is exposed. 


V 


THEORY OF REASON.—FURTHER EXPLICA¬ 
TIONS. 

[From Cousin’s Preface to M. de Biran’s Considerations sur les Rap¬ 
ports du Physique et du Moral '] 

The psychology of the Sensual school, resolving all 
mental phenomena into sensation, results, and can result 
in nothing but, Nominalism or Materialism. 

But in addition to sensation M. de Biran has recognsed 
also the will. The will constitutes an order of facts distinct 
from the facts of mere sensation, and these by enriching 
psychology ought to enlarge the sphere of philosophy. 
Not only has l)e Biran recognised these new facts of con¬ 
sciousness, but he has put them in their true position : 
he has proved that this class of facts, so much overlooked 
in the philosophy of the eighteenth century, is precisely the 


APPENDIX. 


369 


condition of the knowledge of all the others. He has 
seized and presented them under their most remarkable 
type, the muscular effort, in which is irresistibly displayed 
the characteristic of the will, its productive energy, and the 
relation of cause to effect.—Here then are two classes of 
facts : 1. Sensitive facts, or facts of sensation, which bv 
themselves alone would never come under the view of con¬ 
sciousness ; 2. Active or voluntary facts, facts of the will, 
the direct and immediate apperception of which alone 
renders possible the apperception of the other phenomena. 

Now do these two classes of facts exhaust all the facts 
of consciousness ? M. de Biran maintains that they do. 
In my view this pretension is an illusion, a fundamental 
error, which vitiates the whole psychological system of 
Biran, and which by making a vast chasm in it, does before¬ 
hand enchain his whole philosophy within a circle, from 
which he can subsequently free it only by hypotheses. 

It requires no very acute observation, provided it be not 
blinded by the spirit of a previous system, to recognise in 
the consciousness, besides the facts of sensation and voli¬ 
tion, a third class also, of facts as real as the two others, 
and which are perfectly distinct from them: I mean 
rational facts, strictly so called. 

That the will is the condition of the exercise of all our 
faculties, I admit as readily as M. de Biran admits, that 
the senses are the condition of the exercise of the will. 
But to deny or overlook the intelligence because the intel¬ 
ligence requires the will as the condition of its exercise, is 
certainly (I beg pardon of my ingenious and learned mas¬ 
ter) a voice of analysis as bad as to deny or overlook the 
will because it is linked with the sensibility. 

I say nothing in all this but what is exceedingly common 
place. All writers distinguish between the faculties of the 
understanding and the will. The greatest part of them, 
it is true, after having made the distinction in words, con¬ 
found it in reality, or even interchange the functions of 
these two faculties in the strangest manner. For example, 
M. Laromiguiere puts 'preference among the functions of 
the will y when it is evidently involuntary ; and at the head 
ef the functions of the understanding he places attention , 


.570 ELEMENTS of psychology. 

which no less evidently belongs to the will. ..... I 
have frequently taken, in order to distinguish our different 
faculties, the example of a man studying a mathematical 
book. Certainly if the man had no eyes he would not see 
the book, neither the pages nor the letters; nor could he 
comprehend what he could not read. On the other hand, 
if he did not will to give his attention, to fasten his eyes 
to the reading and his attention to meditating what he 
read, he would equally fail to comprehend the book. 
But when liis eyes are open, and when his mind is atten¬ 
tive, is everything then done ? No. It is still requisite that he 
should comprehend, that he should seize (or believe that 
he seizes) the truth expressed. Now this latter fact, this 
recognition of the truth, is a fact which may indeed have 
a variety of circumstances and conditions, but the fact in 
itself is simple, and indecomposable, and cannot be re¬ 
solved into simple volition (attention) any more than into 
sensation. Eor this reason it must have a place by itself 
in any legitimate classification of the facts which fall under 
the eye of consciousness. 

I say of consciousness; but consciousness itself, the 
apperception of consciousness,—that fundamental and 
permanent fact, which it is the error of nearly all systems 
to pretend to explain by a single, term which Sensualism 
explains by resolving into a sensation, become exclusive, 
without inquiring what renders it exclusive ; and which M. 
de Biran explains by the will producing a sensation;— 
could that fact take place without the intervention of some¬ 
thing else which is neither sensation nor volition, but which 
perceives and knows both the one and the other ? 

To be conscious, is to perceive, it is to know; the word 
explains itself ( scientia-cum ). Not only have I a sensation, 
but I know that I have; not only do I will, but I know 
that I do: this knowledge is consciousness. Now it is 
necessary to prove that the will and the sensibility are 
endowed with the faculty of self-perception, of self-know¬ 
ledge, or it must be admitted that there is a third term 
without which the two others w T ould be as though they had 
not been. Consciousness is a threefold phenomenon, in 
which feeling, willing* and knowing, serve as reciprocal 



APl‘EN‘t)I>:. 


371 


conditions, and in their connection, their simultaneousness, 
and at the same time their distinction, they compose the 
entire intellectual life. Take away the sensibility, and there 
is no longer any occasion or object for volition, which then 
no longer is exerted.—Take away the will, and there is no 
longer any proper action, no longer any self, the subject of 
apperception, and therefore no longer any perceptible 
object. —Take away the cognitive faculty, and there is equally 
a destruction of all perception; there is no light which 
exhibits what takes place, the sensation, the volition, and 
their relation ; consciousness loses its torch, and ceases to 
exist. 

To know, then, is an undeniable fact, distinct from every 
other, sui generis. 

To what faculty shall this fact be referred ? Call it 
understanding, mind, intelligence, reason—what you will; 
it is of little moment, provided you recognise it as ail 
elementary faculty. It is commonly called reason. 

Very strangely M. de Biran seems not to have suspected 
that here was a class of facts entitled to particular atten¬ 
tion. In his Memoir concerning the Decomposition of the 
Mind\ and the Elementary Faculties to be recognised , he 
affirms without any proof that “ the faculty of perceiving 
and that of willing, are indivisible,” and that “ metaphy¬ 
sicians have been very wrong in dividing into two classes 
the understanding and the will. He admits but one single 
intellectual and moral principle, distinct from the sensiti¬ 
vity, and that is the will, and he refuses to consider reason 
as an original faculty. 

Thus this profound observer of consciousness had failed 
to see precisely that without which it would be impossible 
to see anything. He who incessantly reproaches the 
Sensual philosophy with mutilating the human mind, in 
order to explain it into mere sensation alone, has not per¬ 
ceived that he himself has despoiled the mind of its highest 
faculty in order to explain it into volition alone, and thereby 
dried up the source of the most sublime ideas—ideas which 
cannot be explained by sensation, nor by volition* 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


72 


VI. 

IDEA OF A SYSTEM OF METAPHYSICS. 


[Program of a Course of Philosophy, 1817.—From the Philoso¬ 
phical Fragments.] 


DIVISION AND CLASSIFICATION OF METAPHYSICAL 
QUESTIONS. 

Division. 

All metaphysical questions are contained in the three 
following: 

1. What are the actual characteristics of human cogni- 
ions in the developed intelligence ? 

2. What is their origin ? 

3. What is their legitimacy or validity? 

The questions concerning the actual state and the 
primitive state of human knowledge, regard it as in the 
human mind, in the subject where it resides. It is the 
subjective point of view. 

The question concerning the validity of human know¬ 
ledge regards it in relation to its objects , that is, in an 
objective point of view. 


Classification. 

1. To treat the actual before the primitive, for in 
commencing with the primitive we might obtain nothing 
but an hypothesis, a false primitive, which would give 
only an hypothetical actual, whose legitimacy would be 
that of an hypothesis. 

2. To treat the actual and the primitive before the 
.egitimate; for the questions concerning the actual and the 
primitive pertain to the subjective system, that concerning 
the legitimate to the objective system, and we cannot know 
the objective before the subjective; in fact it is in the 


APPENDIX. 373 

internal, by and with the internal, that we conceive the 
external. 

All our objective cognitions being facts of consciousness, 
phenomena, we give the title of Psychology or Phenome¬ 
nology , to the science of the subjective, primitive and 
actual. 

The study of our objective cognitions considered in 
relation to their objects, that is to say to real external ex¬ 
istences, is called Ontology. Everything objective is called 
transcendental, and the appreciation of the legitimacy of 
the principles by which we attain the objective is called 
Transcendental Logic. 

The whole science bears the name of Metaphysics . 


SYSTEM OF THE SUBJECTIVE—PSYCHOLOGY 
OR PHENOMENOLOGY. 

OF THE ACTUAL AND THE PRIMITIVE. 

Of the Actual. 

Of the psychological method, or of internal observation. 

Of the division and classification of human cognitions, 
according to the distinction of their actual characteristics. 

Vices of many of the classifications. True classification : 
distinction of human cognitions according to their character¬ 
istics of contingence or of necessity. 

Theory of contingent principles. It is necessary to 
range under the class of contingent principles, those prin¬ 
ciples which force belief, though without implying a con¬ 
tradiction, [in the denial of them,] and which are therefore 
not necessary, but irresistible,—natural beliefs, actual and 
primitive, instinctive; such as the belief in the stability of 
the laws of nature, the perception of extension, etc. etc. 

Theory of principles truly contingent, neither necessary 
nor irresistible, but solely general. 

System of Empiricism; of analysis, and its office. 
Refutation of Empiricism beyond the limits of the contin¬ 
gent. 


374 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


Theory of necessary principles. Of the' characteristics 
which accompany that of necessity. That every necessary 
principle is a synthesis. Of synthesis opposed to analysis, 
and distinguished from identity. 

Questions concerning the enumeration of necessary 
judgments. Difficulty of the enumeration. That it has not 
been attempted by any philosopher before the eighteenth 
century. Leibnitz and Malebranche distinguish necessary 
truths from contingent truths, but without describing nor 
enumerating them. 


HISTORICAL PART. 

CRITICAL PHILOSOPHY OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. 

Reid and Kant. 

Exposition of the doctrine of Reid, concerning necessary 
truths or first principles, Constituent laws of the human 
mind. 

By his own admission, Reid has not exhausted them. 

Kant. Exposition of the Kantian necessary principles; 
theforms of the sensibility; the categories of the Understand¬ 
ing and of the Reason. 

A complete list is not attempted in this course, but the 
attempt is made to describe with exactness the actual 
characteristics of the following principles : 

Principle of substance thus announced : every quality 
supposes a subject, a real being. 

Principle of unity : all plurality supposes unity. 

Principle of causality : everything which begins to exist, 
has a cause. 

Principle of final causes : every means supposes an end. 


Of the Primitive. 

Of the order of the deduction of human cognitions, 
md of the order of their acquisition; of the rational or 


APPENDIX. 375 

logical order, and of the chronological or psychological 
order. 

A knowledge is anterior to another in the logical order 
in as far as it authorizes the other; it is then its logica 
ahtecedent. 

A knowledge is anterior to another, in the psychologies 
order, in as far as it springs up before the other in tin 
human mind; it is then its psychological antecedent. 

Hence the two-fold sense of the word primitive; i 
knowledge may be primitive either logically, or psycho¬ 
logically. 

This being laid down, we are to examine whether our 
actual cognition, both contingent and necessary, are pri¬ 
mitive, either logically or psychologically ; and if they are 
not, to ascertain the antecedents, logical or psychological, 
which they suppose. 


The Logical Primitm 


Contingent empirical judgments have a logical primitive; 
the certainty of a general principle rests upon that of the 
determinate individual facts of which it is the generaliza¬ 
tion. 

On the contrary, contingent, not-empirical judgments, 
and necessary judgments, have not, and cannot have a 
logical antecedent; no individual fact being sufficient to 
ground either the necessary, or the irresistible. 


Psychological Primitive. 

Both orders of contingent general judgments have their 
psychological primitive in a determinate individual fact; 

Necessary judgments have also their determinate indi¬ 
vidual psychological primitive ; for nothing is originally 
given us under a pure and universal type; but every 
primitive is individual and determinate ; now, every psy¬ 
chological primitive being a determinate individual fact, 
and every individual fact being a fact of the me, it is in 


376 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


the self, that is, in the modifications and individual deter¬ 
minations of the self, perceived by consciousness, that we 
find the psychological origin of all our knowledge. The 
he, the centre of the sphere of intelligence. 

But there is this difference between the primitive of an 
empirical contingent principle, and that of a necessary prin¬ 
ciple—that the one has need of new individual determinate 
facts more or less similar, and never identical since they 
are all individual and determinate, in order to engender the 
contingent general principle, which is nothing else than the 
comparative result of a certain number of individual differ¬ 
ences ;—while, to engender the necessary principle, the 
determinate individual fact, which serves as its psychological 
antecedent, has no need of new facts, but already contains 
the principle whole and entire. In a word contingent 
principles have their psychological primitive, the multiple 
in a succession of individual facts compared. Necessary 
principles have their psychological primitive in a single 
determinate fact. 

The knot of the difficulty and of the apparent contradic¬ 
tion which here present itself, is in this truth, which is the 
basis of the intellectual system, to wit, that every individual 
fact is a concrete, composed of two parts, of which the 
first is eminently individual and determinate in itself: and 
the second, individual and determinate in its contact with 
the first, is, nevertheless, considered in itself, neither in¬ 
dividual nor determinate. 


Example. 

The energy of my will produces an internal movement* 
which it is not necessary here to describe with precision. 

This fact, individual and determinate in its totality, 
resolves itself finally into two elements very distinct: first 
an individual determinate will, that of myself; an indivi- 


* [Movement taken metaphorically, without relation to place, a 
working, internal effect, here of the will, and equivalent volition. 
Tr.] 


APPENDIX. 


377 


dual determinate movement whose intensity is in proportion 
to that of the will and depends upon it;—second, a relation 
of the movement produced, to the producing will. 

The first part of this fact, which embraces the deter- 
minateness of the effect and the cause, is personal and 
relative to the self; it varies with its two terms. It is the 
empirical part of the fact. When comparative abstraction 
collects under one point of view the successive differences 
of this empirical part, it composes from them a general 
idea and the possibility for us of now applying this general 
idea, to a certain number of particular cases, constitutes 
the actual contingent knowledge which we call a contingent 
general principle. 

But the second part of the fact, that is to say the relation 
of such or such a determinate cause to such or such a 
determinate effect, although individualized in the former 
part, is yet distinct from it. Yary the terms, the relation 
remains the same. Abstract all the individuality of the 
cause and of the effect; yet the relation of cause and effect 
remains in the mind. This second part of the fact is the 
absolute part of it. 

Now, the moment the concrete and individual appear in 
my consciousness, I am not free to make or not to make 
an abstraction of its individuality; this abstraction is made 
necessarily and independently of my will, and I have the 
notion of the relation of cause to effect.* 

This relation, which was contingent in the concrete, 
because it was attached to a determinate and therefore 
contingent cause and effect, is no sooner separated by 
abstraction from that concrete, than it appears to me 
absolute and necessary. 

As soon as I have the notion of the necessary relation of 
cause to effect, I have the actual necessary knowledge: 
that every fact which begins to exist has a cause; I have 

* [By the necessity of my intellectual structure I have it, as a re¬ 
lation independent of that particular movement or phenomenon of 
consciousness, by occasion of which the understanding in virtue of 
its own proper activity and by its own laws, was led to conceive the 
principle of causality, as universal, necessary, and applicable to 
every possible movement and change.—T r.] 


378 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


the principle of causality, which is nothing else than the 
impossibility of not applying to all possible cases; the 
notion obtained by abstraction from individuality in the 
concrete. 

This abstraction is not the same with that which, in the 
formation of contingent general knowledge, gives me a 
general idea; this latter proceeds by the aid of comparison 
and generalization; it is comparative abstraction;—the 
other proceeds by simple separation, and we therefore call 
it immediate abstraction. 

The process of immediate abstraction operates only upon 
a single fact, (at least it does not appear that the second 
gives anything more than the first*) and takes place 
inevitably; while the other has need of many facts in 
order to take place, its conditions of action, its limits, 
its progressive development,—and finally, is voluntary. 
He who does not wish to compare will never generalize. 
This synthesis is arbitrary; the other is necessitated. 

Such is the origin and mode of development of all actual 
cognitions. 


TABLE OF THE CONTINGENT AND NECESSARY. 
Contingent. Necessary. 


1. Psychological Primitive. 

Individual fact—Matter of 
the concrete.—Succession of se¬ 
veral individual facts. 

Process. —Abstraction, com¬ 
parison, generalization. 

Result. —General idea. 


2 The Actual. 

Possibility of applying the 
general idea to a certain num¬ 
ber of cases, or general principle. 


1. Psychological Primitive. 

Individual fact — Concrete 
composed of an individual em¬ 
pirical part and of an absolute 
part.—No succession. 

Process. —Immediate abstrac¬ 
tion.—Elimination of the Empiri¬ 
cal part, and disengagement of 
the absolute. 

Result. —Pure notion of the 
absolute. 

2 The Actual. 

Impossibility of not applying 
the notion to all cases, or neces¬ 
sary absolute principle. 


* [That is—to illustrate still by the notion of cause—in the 
first instance of a change observed by consciousness, the mind as 


APPENDIX. 


379 


Contingent not-empirical principles are obtained by the 
same process as necessary principles; the only difference 
is in the results. We do not obtain the absolute nor the 
necessary in itself, but the irresistible. 

We shall not endeavour to determine strictly the number 
and order of actual necessary principles, nor the origin of 
all those principles, nor their dependance, nor the different 
faculties to whose exercise they are attached. 

Nor shall we attempt to describe the primitive internal 
facts with all the circumstances which accompany them. 

Nevertheless we shall attempt to recognise the origin of 
the necessary principles of substance, of unity, of causality, 
and of final causes, because we particularly describe the 
actual characteristics of these principles, and because they 
embrace and constitute all intellectual life. 


PRIMITIVE INTERNAL FACTS. 


1. Affection or volition and in 
general a determinate modifica¬ 
tion.—Relation.—The me. 

2. Succession of passions or 
volitions and in general determi¬ 
nate plurality — Relation—The 
me identical and one. 


3. Voluntary fact and in gene¬ 
ral determinate effect willed.— 

Relation.—Power and Willing of 
the me. 

4. Intentional volition, and in 
general determinate direction of 
the voluntary power, that is to 
say, a determinate means.—Rela¬ 
tion.—Determinate End. 

necessarily conceives the notion of cause, of the relation of cause to 
the effect, as in the second or the thousandth instance;—and in 
the second or the thousandth instance the mind can do nothing more 
than apply the same principle. Though this necessary process of 
the mind may become clearer to consciousness by reflection, yet it is 
as actually a necessary process in the first as in the thousandth case ; 
it is a necessary and universal law of the mind which acts in the 

2 L 2 


Elimination of the modifica¬ 
tion and of the me. —Disengage¬ 
ment of the absolute relation of 
attribute to subject. 

Elimination of the determi¬ 
nate plurality, and of the me 
identical and one.—Disengage¬ 
ment of the absolute relation of 
plurality to unity, of succession 
to duration. 

Elimination of the determi¬ 
nate effect willed and of the 
me. —Disengagement of the ab¬ 
solute relation of cause to effect. 

Elimination of the means and 
of the end determinate—Disen¬ 
gagement of the absolute rela¬ 
tion of means to end. 


380 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


The principle of identify is connected with the principle 
of substance, as the principle'of inteutvonality with that of 
causality. 

These two orders of principles have a primitive difference 
which consists in this, that the relation which connects the 
determinate effect to the determinate cause, the determinate 
end to the determinate means, is a perception of conscious¬ 
ness, while the relation which connects the determinate 
modification to the me, the determinate being, is not a 
perception of consciousness, but an instinctive manifesta¬ 
tion of the principle of substance in the consciousness ; 
and so, also, the relation which connects the me identical 
and one to the determinate succession and plurality, is not 
a perception of the consciousness, but an instinctive mani¬ 
festation of the necessary principle of unity in the memory. 

The absolute, being before us, governs us primitively, 
in the original action of the mind, (though without appear¬ 
ing to us primitively under its pure form,) and forces us to 
conceive at once, under any determinate quality, a deter¬ 
minate being, which is the me ; a natural hypothesis.* But 
as soon as the relation has been suggested to us by the 
force of the absolute in a determinate primitive concrete, of 
which the self, the me, is one of the terms, it disengages 
itself from the me, and appears to us under its pure form, 
and in its universal evidence which explains and legitimates 
the primitive hypothesis. It is the same in regard to the 
manifestation of the identity of self by the principle of 
unity in the memory. 

The primitive manifestation of the existence of the me, 
and of its duration in consciousness and memory by the 

first case as in the last; audits necessity and universality do not 
depend upon and are not the result of many particular facts; while 
those contingent general conceptions which depend upon comparison 
and generalization, require several observations, and derive their 
extension and comparative universality from them. What is thus true 
of the principle of causality—the relation of cause to effect, as a 
necessary and universal law, given by immediate abstraction in a 
single concrete fact, is true of all other necessary principles.—T r.] 

* [‘TtroTfffyjUi, suppono, to place under as a support, to take as 
the ground :— inr6Qe<ns, supposition , placing under as the ground 
of the phenomenal,—T r.] 


APPENDIX* 


381 


absolute principles of substance and of unity, is the primi¬ 
tive bond or link which connects ontology to psychology* 
and the first light which illuminates and discloses the ob¬ 
jective in the subjective. 


OBJECTIVE SYSTEM. 

Ontology and Logic. 

External objects of knowledge; means by which we attain 
them; legitimacy of those means. 

THE SOUL, MATTER, AND GOD. 

The soul. 

The soul or the real substantial me [not merely the 
phenomenal self, the me of consciousness] is objective; for 
it does not fall under the eye of consciousness. Examina¬ 
tion of the opinion which makes the me a phenomenon or 
a succession of phenomena. 

The knowledge of the soul, or of the real substantial me, 
is the result of the application of the principle of sub¬ 
stance. 

Application primitive and not logical, which gives a 
being determinate, and real, the me; a primitive fact made 
up ; 1, of an individual modification: 2, of a me, and 3, of 
a relation individualized in its terms, but which discovers 
to us a fundamental and essential relation between every 
modification and every being, by a disengagement of the 
absolute. Thus the adequate knowledge of the absolute 
principle gives us a knowledge of the me, as an objective 
substance. 

The soul is a complex word which comprises, both the 
determinate real substantial me, the knowledge of which, 
without being an apperception of consciousness, is a primi¬ 
tive conception psychological and ontological and the sub¬ 
stance of the me, which, considered in itself and not as in 


382 


Elements op psychology. 


any particular individual, is an ulterior and purely ontolo¬ 
gical conception. 

The self is the part of the objective sphere which mani¬ 
fests itself to us the first. It is the first step that we take 
beyond our consciousness. 


Identity and unity of the Soul , [the substantial me]. 

Manifested by a judgment of the memory, as the me by 
a judgment of consciousness. 

Opinion which makes the identity and unity of the me 
a perception of the consciousness, examined. 

The judgment of [personal] identity disengages and 
brings out the absolute relation of plurality to unity, of 
succession to duration. Distinction between a primitive 
judgment conformed to the natural laws of all judgment, 
and a logical judgment starting from a logical and indeter¬ 
minate principle, in order to arrive at a logical and indeter¬ 
minate consequence. 


Matter. 

Two principles manifest it to us. 

The principle of causality and of intentional causality 
—obtained in a primitive fact of consciousness, and become 
an absolute principle—makes us conceive in certain cases, 
external intentional causes. The intervention of perception 
which is not a principle, but an instinctive judgment, 
manifests to us, so to say, the mode of these causes, exten¬ 
sion. The principle of substance gathered in the primitive 
fact of the me, and become an absolute principle, suggests 
to us necessarily the conception of a real but indeterminate 
being under extension, and then extension appears as the 
quality of a substance which we call matter. 

External causes vary, that is, the qualities of matter; 
but the principle of identity and unity gathered in the 
judgment of memory, and become an absolute principle, 
iiecessarily suggests to us the conception of an identical 


APPENDIX. 


383 


being in the midst of the variations of these qualities, of a 
unity under this plurality, of a duration in which this suc¬ 
cession takes place. 

Perception has been taken upon supposition, and not 
demonstrated, as a necessary intermediate. 


God. 

Experience withdrawing from matter the causality and 
intentionality which had at first been applied to it, and 
leaving to it only physical powers or forces, the principles 
of causality and intentionality remain, and, aided by the 
principle of unity, lead us to place the true causality and 
intentionality in a single supreme cause, which the prin¬ 
ciple of substance makes us conceive as a real and sub¬ 
stantial being, that is, (rod. 


LEGITIMACY OF THE MEANS OF KNOWLEDGE. 

In order to invalidate the certainty of the existence of 
the objects of our knowledge, it has been said that the 
principles which give us these judgments, being only sub¬ 
jective principles, cannot have an objective authority. 


Discussion of the Objective and Subjective. 

If, by subjective, be understood that which is relative 
to a particular subject, and by objective, that which is 
absolute, then it is not true that we obtain the objective by 
subjective principles. Eor instance, what, in point of fact, 
is the principle of causality ? It is the impossibility of not 
applying to all possible cases (of change,) the necessary 
relation of effect to cause. But we have obtained this 
necessary relation by abstracting it from the individual, 
that is, the determinate subject. The necessary relation 
constitutes the necessary principle of causality. The prin¬ 
ciple of causality, therefore, supposes the non-relation to 


384 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


any particular and determinate subject whatever. Far 
from being a conception of the me, it is an abstraction of 
it. The principle of causality is not, then, subjective, in 
the sense of being relative to a particular individual subject. 
When therefore this principle makes us conceive, e. g., the 
existence of God, we do not believe in the absolute on the 
faith of the relative, in the objective on the faith of the 
subjective ; but we believe in the absolute on the faith of 
the absolute, in the objective on the faith of the objective. 

The principles which give us external existences, give 
them therefore legitimately ; for the absolute legitimately 
gives the absolute. 

But if the subjective be understood, as it is by us, to 
mean everything which is internal, and objective everything 
which is external, it is right to say that we believe in the 
objective on the faith of the subjective. But how would 
it be possible for us to know the external, but by an inter¬ 
nal principle ? It is we who know. Now we are a 
determinate being, who knows only within himself, because 
his faculty of knowing is his own. No principle could make 
him conceive an existence, if it did not appear to his faculty 
of conceiving, that is to say, if it were not within him, if it 
were not internal. 

But this principle does not lose its authority, because it 
appears in a subject. Because an absolute principle falls 
under the consciousness of a determinate being, it does not 
follow that it becomes relative to that being; the absolute 
may appear in the determinate, the universal in the parti¬ 
cular, the necessary in the contingent, intelligent personality 
in the me, man in the individual, the reason in conscious¬ 
ness, the objective in the subjective. 

The first act of faith is the belief in the soul, and the last, 
the belief in God. The intellectual life is a continual series 
of beliefs, of acts of faith in the invisible revealed by the 
visible, the external revealed by the internal. 


APPENDIX. 


385 


MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 

DIVISION AND CLASSIFICATION OF MORAL INQUIRIES. 

Division. 

All questions respecting morals are included in the 
three following: 

1. What are the actual characteristics of the moral 
principles ? 

2. What is there origin ? 

3. What is their legitimacy or validity ? 

The two first questions regard moral principles in 
themselves, in the subject where they reside, that is to say, 
in the subjective point of view. This is Morals properly 
speaking. 

The third question considers questions in morals rela¬ 
tively to the consequences derivable from them, and to the 
external objects which they discover to us, that is to say, 
in an objective point of view.—This pertains to Religion 
properly speaking. 


Classification , or order in which questions in Morals should 
be treated. 

1. The actual to be treated before the primitive; for, 
beginning with the primitive, an hypothesis only would be 
the result; it might be a false primitive, which would 
give only an hypothetical actual, whose validity would be 
that of a mere hypothesis. 

2. The actual and the primitive, to be treated before 
the legitimate, for the two first questions pertain to the 
system of the subjective, the last to that of the objective, 
and we know nothing of the objective but by and through 
the subjective. 

We go therefore not from religion to morals, but from 
morals to religion ; for if religion is the complement and 
necessary consequence of morals, morals itself is the basis, 
the necessary principle of religion. 


386 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


The science of subjective morals (including the Actual 
and the Primitive) is Moral Psychology , which may also 
be called Moral Phenomenology , because it is limited to 
stating and describing the facts of consciousness, or inter¬ 
nal phenomena. 

The science of objective morals, relating to real existences, 
is the moral part of ontology. Everything lying higher than 
consciousness, and therefore surpassing observation, is 
sometimes called transcendent, and the appreciation of the 
legitimacy of the moral principles by which we attain to 
objective morals, is the transcendental logic of morals. 

The whole science bears the name of Moral Philosophy. 


SUBJECTIVE SYSTEM. 

MORAL PSYCHOLOGY. 

THE ACTUAL AND THE PRIMITIVE. 

OF THE ACTUAL. 

Question concerning the classification of moral princi¬ 
ples. 

Classification of them according to the distinction of 
contingence and necessity. 


Theory of Contingent Principles of Morals. 

In the class of contingent moral principles may be 
arranged those facts which are not indeed principles , but 
sentiments, emotions, instincts, etc., and which by their 
contingency and variability have a relation to the contingent 
principles in morals. 


Moral Instincts. 
Expansion.—Pity, sympathy, etc. 


APPENDIX. 


387 


Concentration.—Aversion to pain, love of pleasure, 
self-love. 


Contingent Moral Principles. 

Contingent moral principles, which, are general maxims 
relative to morals, are nothing but passion generalized, 
instinct erected into a rational principle. 

The general principles which are referable to the instinct 
of expansion , constitute what may be called the morality 
of sentiment, variable and not obligatory.—Morality of 
pity, of sympathy, of benevolence, considered merely as 
sentiment or emotion. 

The general principles which are referable to the instinct 
of concentration or self-love, constitute the morality of 
self-interest, variable and not obligatory. 

Fundamental principle of the morality of self-interest in 
regard to an action contemplated : Look only at its con¬ 
sequences relative to personal happiness. 

The most important general principles which form the 
morality of self-interest are :— 

Do right, abstain from wrong, from hope or fear of the 
rewards or penalties of civil society;— 

Do right, abstain from wrong, from hope or fear of 
divine rewards and punishments ;— 

Do right, abstain from wrong, from fear of blame from 
others, or even of remorse, and in order to gain the plea¬ 
sure of a good conscience and internal happiness. 

All these contingent general principles [maxims] relate 
to the sensitive nature of man, and have respect only to 
the individual, to self. 


Necessary Principles. 

There is in us an universal and necessary moral principle 
which embraces all times and all places, the possible as well 
as the real—it is the principle of right and wrong. This 
principle distinguishes and qualifies actions.—Moral Rea¬ 
son. 


388 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


Special characteristic of this principle : Obligation—the 
Moral Law. 

Enunciation of the moral law : Do right for the sake of 
right; or rather, Will the right for the sake of right. 
Morality has to do with the intentions. 

The moral principle being universal, the sign or external 
type by which a resolution may be recognised as conformed 
to this principle, is the impossibility of not erecting the 
immediate motive of the particular act or resolution into a 
maxim of universal legislation.—Moral casuistry. 

The question concerning the enumeration of the necessary 
moral principles.—Of the different applications of the mo¬ 
ral reason, that is to say, of the different duties. Duties 
towards God; duties towards others ; duties towards our¬ 
selves. Equality of duties. Our duties to ourselves are 
as true as others, because they do not refer merely to the 
individual, sensitive me, but to the man, to the dignity of 
the moral person, of whom alone duties are predicable. In 
this view, all our duties are in a certain sense duties to our¬ 
selves. 


Of Liberty. 

The moral law logically implies a free will. Duty sup¬ 
poses power. Placed between passion which urges, and 
the moral law which commands us, men must needs have 
been provided with a power of free resolution, whereby he 
could resist the one and obey the other.—Correlation of 
freedom and law in the moral economy. 

Moreover the freedom of the will is a psychological fact.— 
Examination of the objection drawn from the principle of 
causality. Causality is the instrument of liberty, not the 
foundation of it. 

Analysis of the free productivity : effect and power, are 
correlative terms bound together by the relation of causal¬ 
ity ; but the voluntary and free energy does not enter into 
the relation itself,—it is the subject of it, the foundation, 
the ultimate reason of it. 

Distinction between Will and Desire. Desire, a passive 
modification of the me ; freedom, the proper force of man. 


APPENDIX. 


389 


Freedom has respect to Virtue, as Desire has to Happi¬ 
ness—Sphere of Happiness; sphere of Virtue. 


Principle of Merit and of Demerit. 

Not only do we, as sensitive beings, incessantly aspire 
after happiness ; but when we have done right, we judge, 
as intelligent and moral beings, that we are worthy of hap¬ 
piness.—Necessary principle of merit and demerit—the 
origin and foundation of all our ideas of reward and punish¬ 
ment ; a principle continually confounded either with the 
desire of happiness, or with the moral law itself. 

Hence it is that the question concerning the sovereign 
good—the summum bonum —has not yet been universally 
resolved. A single solution has been sought for a complex 
question; by those who did not recognise the two princi¬ 
ples capable of completely resolving it. 

The Epicurean solution made the summum bonum to 
consist in satisfaction of the desire of happiness. The 
Stoic solution in the fulfilment of the moral law. 

The true solution is in the harmony of virtue and of 
happiness as merited by it; for the two elements of this 
duality are not equal. Happiness is the consequent; virtue 
is the antecedent. It is not alone the sole and sovereign 
good, but it is always the chief good. * 


(Question concerning Moral and Physical Good and Evil. 

Ever in the earthly career of the virtuous and honourable 
man, the sum of moral good transcends that of moral evil; 
but the sum of physical evil transcends that of physical 
good. 

It should needs be so, since virtue exists only under 
this condition, that the passions are resisted and overcome. 

When indeed sympathy leads us to aid an unfortunate 
person, this action is attended by something delightful j 
for instead of being the result of a sacrifice of passion, it is 
prompting of passion so to say.—Moral Beauty.—But it is 
2 M 


390 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


not always that we are influenced by a natural passion or 
feeling which is in the service of the moral law; almost 
always it is necessary to sacrifice our natural affections.— 
Moral conflict. Human Sorrow. The Moral Sublime. 

But if physical evil were far greater than it is, even if it 
were continually rending our frames, it would continually 
be incumbent on us to obey the moral law; for the moral 
law exists independently of our sensibility. 

Thus in the presence of unfortunate and suffering virtue, 
the principle of merit and demerit pronounces still that 
happiness is due to virtue. 

Moral position of man on the earth. 


OF THE PRIMITIVE. 

The question concerning the primitive in morals is not 
different from that concerning the primitive in metaphysics. 

Distinction between the logical and the psychological 
primitive. 

Of the logical primitive of contingent principles. 

Instinctive contingent principles have no logical primi¬ 
tive, as certain contingent principles in metaphysics, such 
as the natural belief in the uniformity and stability of the 
laws of nature.—Contingent principles of self-interest have 
a logical primitive in a succession of individual determinate 
facts of which they are the sum. 

Psychological primitive of contingent principles. All 
contingent principles have a psychological primitive in an 
individual determinate fact, to wit, a passive modification 
of the me. 


Necessary Principles. 

No logical primitive.—Psychological primitive in an 
individual determinate complex fact.—Description of this 
fact. In part individual and empirical; in part absolute; 
the former relative to the me, the latter to moral personality 
universally. 


APPENDIX. 


391 


Elimination of the empirical part or that relative to the 
individual me. Disengagement of the absolute part or that 
of universal moral personality. The process of immediate 
abstraction by which the absolute is separated from the 
variable, is distinct from the comparative abstraction which 
engenders contingent general principles. 


Theory of the Absolute. 

The Absolute has no respect to the individual, the me, 
although it appears in the individual.—As soon as the ab¬ 
solute in morals has been separated from the variable 
element which is the result of passion, etc. etc., it appears 
under a pure and universal type, which embraces all times, 
all places, all beings, the possible as well as the real. 

The absolute is accordingly perceived as the true life of 
intelligent or moral personality, as the sphere in which it 
thinks and wills, in such sort that its thoughts and volitions 
are under the eternal empire of absolute principles which 
direct and determine it at once and always. This is the 
reason why primitively the absolute is found in the first in¬ 
dividual fact, the moral personality being blended with the 
particular individuality of the me in the fact, and thinking 
or willing in the very first instance according to its im¬ 
mutable and eternal laws.—Hence the legitimacy of the 
first absolute judgment. 

OBJECTIVE MORAL SYSTEM OR RELIGIOUS SYSTEM. 

Transcendental Logic. 

The absolute appears in my consciousness, but it appear, 
to it independent of consciousness and of myself; for it is 
only after being disengaged from that which is individuals 
pertaining, that is, solely to myself, that it presents itself 
to the intelligent moral personality which is in us a portion 
of human nature. 

The absolute not being relative to the me, has a legiti- 
2 m 2 


392 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


mate validity beyond the me which perceives it Jbut does 
not constitute it. 

Examination of the distinction between speculative rea¬ 
son and practical reason. Unity of reason and the absolute. 
The absolute to be divided only in relation to its objects, 
whether mathematical, metaphysical, or moral. 

No practical consideration can transform the relative 
into the absolute. Refutation of the doctrine of Kant. 

In Metaphysics, the absolute principles of causality, in¬ 
tentionally, of substance and of unity, have conducted us 
to the knowledge of God as the intentional cause single 
and substantial: these four absolute principles have given 
us the absolute Being, God. 

In Morals we have recognised two absolute principles, 
the principle of moral obligation, and the necessary principle 
of merit and demerit: now, these two principles which 
appear to my consciousness as absolute principles, have a 
transcendental extent and reveal to me existences out of 
and beyond my mind. Nor is anything more natural and 
legitimate, since though revealed in my consciousness, they 
are not constituted by it. Now, as we admit the validity 
of absolute principles in metaphysics, we must likewise ad¬ 
mit the validity of these principles in morals. 

Let us examine what are the strict consequences which 
flow from the absolute principles of Morals, let us see what 
new existences they manifest to us, or what new character¬ 
istics they add to those already obtained. 

Independently of moral philosophy, we have attained to 
God as the soul supreme, intentional and substantial cause 
by means of the four principles which have their psycholo¬ 
gical ground in the intentional causality, the unity and 
substantiality of our personal individuality. But I am 
not only an intentional and substantial cause; I am also 
a moral being ; and this new characteristic, recognised by 
my consciousness, forces me to transfer to the supreme 
author of my being a new characteristic which I had not 
yet discovered [by metaphysical principles]. God thus 
becomes in my conception not only the creator of the 
physical world, but the father of the moral world. The 
author of a moral being cannot be immoral; the imposex 


APPENDIX. 


300 


of the law of justice cannot be unjust. It is not then the 
divine will which reveals to me the moral law, but it is 
the moral law which reveals to me the justice of the divine 
will. 

Description of the inductive process, or external applica¬ 
tion of the principle of causality, intentionality and sub¬ 
stance. God the substance and reason of Righteousness, 
the ideal of Sanctity, the Holy of Holies. 

Return to the universe. Of the universe apart from 
the prior supposition of a just God. Refutation of ordi¬ 
nary optimism. 

When, withdrawing my eyes from the spectacle of the 
external universe, I turn them inward upon myself, the 
Divine rectitude displays itself to me in the principle or 
law of rectitude which I find in the depth of my conscience. 
I say to myself: that God who has made the world must 
have made it according to the laws of supreme rectitude ; 
so that concerning the external world, were it even more 
obscure, and given up to still greater disorders—in this 
profound darkness, in the very presence of these disorders 
—the absolute principle of rectitude impels me still to say 
with confidence : that which I see and that which I do 
not see—everything—-is not only for the best, but all is 
good, perfectly good; for everything is ordered or per¬ 
mitted by a righteous and all powerful cause. 

The principle of rectitude, transferred from being an 
idea in my mind to God, throws the light of rectitude over 
the external world; and the judgment of merit and demerit, 
transferred likewise from myself to God, furnishes me with 
new light. The judgment of merit and demerit passed 
by a rational being, pronounces that virtue is worthy of 
happiness. This judgment, being absolute, has a tran¬ 
scendental absolute validity. Now, as soon as God is 
conceived by me as a moral being, supremely just, I 
cannot but conceive that God himself is included within 
application of the absolute principle of merit and demerit. 

The principle of merit and demerit thus transferred from 
myself to a righteous God, imposes, so to say, upon this 
just and all powerful God the obligation of re-establishing 
the legitimate harmony between virtue and happiness, 


394 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY 


disturbed here below by external causes. God can restore 
this harmony if he wills ; he cannot but will it, since he 
is supremely righteous, and since he himself judges that 
virtue and hnppiness ought to go together.—Conception 
of another life. 

The conception of the existence of another life is as 
absolute as the conception of the existence of God, or of 
external objects, or of our own existence. If the absolute 
be absolute, it is so in all cases; if we accept it in one 
thing, we must in all; if we believe in our own existence 
we may believe with the same title in the reality of another 
life, in the immortality of the soul. 

Examination of the opinion which grounds the immor¬ 
tality of the soul upon its simplicity.—Simple or not, the 
soul can be destroyed by a special act of God. Its sim¬ 
plicity is only a condition and a presumption in favour of 
its immortality. 

The judgment of merit and demerit alone pronounces 
in an absolute manner that the soul is immortal. 

Thus from the law of merit and demerit we derive the 
immortality of the soul, just as from the moral principle 
we derive the Divine justice ; and in the same manner as 
the conception of the justice of God does to our view 
re-establish light and order in the external world, just 
so does the conception of another life, and of the future 
realization of the legitimate harmony between virtue and 
happiness, make me yield without a murmur to the ills of 
this life. I look upon the present order of things as a 
temporary state, and expect that the eternal order which 
the absolute principles of justice and of merit reveal to me, 
will be re-established in another world, where the absolute 
will enjoy at length the pure life of the absolute. 

Examination of the question: Why is there more of 
suffering than of happiness in this life ? 

Refutation of the common optimist solution drawn from 
the general laws of the world and from the impossibility 
under which God is said to have been of doing any better. 

True solution.—The end of man and the object of human 
existence not being solely happiness, but happiness in 
virtue and by virtue, it follows that virtue, in this world, is 


APPENDIX. 


395 


the condition of happiness in another life; and the inevi¬ 
table condition of virtue, in this world, is suffering. Take 
away suffering, there is no longer resignation, humanity; 
no longer the painful virtues, no more of the moral sublime. 
We are made sensitive beings, that is to say, obnoxious to 
suffering, because we should be virtuous, and because we 
cannot be virtuous but by the sacrifice of sensibility to the 
moral reason. If there had been more of physical good, 
there would have been less room for moral devotion, and 
this world would have been badly adapted to the destination 
of man. The accidental disorders of the physical world 
and the unforeseen ills that result from them are not dis¬ 
orders and ills which have escaped the power and goodness 
of God. God not only permits but he wills them. He 
wills that there should be for man in the physical world, a 
great number of sources of pain, in order that there may 
be for him occasions of resignation and of courage. 

Relation of the laws of external nature and of our physical 
nature and passions whereby suffering is imposed upon us, 
to the moral law which imposes upon us courage—con¬ 
sidered with reference to the general design of a moral 
God who has made man for a moral end. 

General rule : Everything which turns to the advantage 
of virtue, everything which gives greater energy to moral 
liberty, everything which subserves the greatest moral 
development of the human race, is good. Suffering is not 
the worst condition of man on the earth; the w r orst condi¬ 
tion is the moral brutishness which would be engendered by 
the absence of physical evil.—Object of the sufferings of life. 

Physical evil, external or internal, is connected with 
the object of existence, which is to fulfil here below the 
moral law whatever be the consequences, with a firm hope 
that in another life the recompense of reward to suffering 
virtue will not fail. The moral law has its sanction and its 
reason in itself; it owes nothing to that of merit and demerit 
which accompanies it, but does not form its foundation. 
But while the principle of merit and demerit is not the 
immediate motive of action, it is a motive of consolation 
and of hope. The province of religion,—and the province 
of morality. 


396 


ELEMENTS OF PSYCHOLOGY. 


What is the Moral Law ? The knowledge of Duty, as 
Duty, whatever be its consequences, 

What is Religion? The knowledge of Duty in its 
necessary harmony with Happiness—a harmony which 
ought to have its realization in another life, through the 
justice and omnipotence of God. 

Religion is of faith ; morality of observation. Morality 
is psychological; religion is transcendental. Morality is 
a matter of apperception ; religion a matter of revelation. 
I have faith in the existences revealed to me by the moral 
principles of my nature; the principles themselves I per¬ 
ceive. 

Religion is as true as moral science; for when once an 
absolute principle in morals is admitted, we must admit 
the consequences of it. 

Human existence complete and entire may be summed 
up in these two words, which harmonize with each other : 
J)uty and Hope. 


THE END. 


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